


Poisk Istiny {Finding Truth}

by CassondraWinchester, lotrspnfangirl



Series: Cas and Dani's Fics [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Mob, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Murder, Blood, Character Death (not main), Crime Lords, Drug dealings, F/M, Family Drama, Family Secrets, Graphic Description, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Italian Mafia, Knotting, M/M, Mating Bites, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multi, Omega Castiel, Oral Sex, Organized Crime, Post Mpreg, Russian Mafia, Torture, True Mates, Violence, Weapons, mpreg (non graphic)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-09-01 21:08:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 119,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8638123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassondraWinchester/pseuds/CassondraWinchester, https://archiveofourown.org/users/lotrspnfangirl/pseuds/lotrspnfangirl
Summary: A rival family is stealing the Patricolo Family’s Boston shipments and collecting a neat payday five hours away on the streets of Brooklyn and Manhattan. Their Don, Dean Winchester, is wary about reaching out to a long-time New York ally. The Russian Bratvas do things differently. The young Pakhan, Castiel Krushnic, is hard-nosed and violent and while violence is mainstay in any underworld family, this boss has a special flair for it. It leaves an uncomfortable taste in Don Winchester’s mouth. Encouraged by his Consigliere, Bobby Singer, he finally relents. The Pakhan is quite different from what he was expecting. Dean learns the man’s secret by accident and decides to keep it to himself. They have bigger fish to fry as they discover traitors in both of their organizations while their enemy ups the stakes for each of them. After members of each family are kidnapped, the stakes get even higher.Betrayed from within leads to exposing long held secrets and when long denied desires are unleashed it puts each of them on a path that will change their lives forever.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> ****Update**** As of April 2017, we are reworking and reposting this fic. **It will post Wednesday Mornings**. We worked hard to get it where it was, but there were a lot of things we weren't happy with and felt rushed to finish in time. There was a lot of extra stress and emotional turmoil that followed us with this fic, and we want to dedicate the time so we can love this as much as we should! We hope you all love it too. ♥

  

** Acknowledgements **

When CassondraWinchester and I started out on this journey, over a year ago now, it was a way for me to escape the hardships that were happening in my life as well as something we thought would be fun and to pass the time. Never, in a million years, had we anticipated it turning into this. We went from late night ramblings of “Oh my god, Destiel mobsters would be so hot!” to writing over 100-thousands words of it.

There are so many people to thank. First off, [Theatregirl7299](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theatregirl7299/pseuds/Theatregirl7299) for holding our hand at the beginning and telling us our idea was worth something, despite the pairing not being her cup of tea. And then [IslanderBib83](http://archiveofourown.org/users/islanderbib83) for literally walking through this journey at our side, crying when we cried, getting angry when we made hard choices, and falling in love with our characters right along with us. HUGE thank you to [thunderpuffin429](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderpuffin429/pseuds/thunderpuffin429) for her beta work and help in getting our fic into tip-top shape and to [purpleskys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/purpleskys/pseuds/purpleskys) for making sure that we didn’t mess things up too badly after our edits and fluffing post-beta’ing.

Thank you to [zephyrchrysalis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zephyrchrysalis) for beta’ing for us as well as providing us with art. She's posting too so make sure to check out her page as well! [You can find it here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10547416).

Lastly, I want to thank Cas for partaking in this journey with me. Writing with you was probably the best therapy I could’ve had while my life was falling apart around me. I even loved when we got stressed and snappy with each other and then looked up videos on the most messed up things (seriously, no one can look at my search history) to break the ice. This is our first big bang, and we completed it together. I am so proud of us. I honestly do not believe I could’ve done this, or gotten as far as I have in real life, without your support and friendship. I love you and thank you for doing this with me ♥

This is a dark fic, but it’s also heartwarming and above all, a story about acceptance and love. We really hope you enjoy this as much as we enjoyed writing it. So, without further ado…

  

 

**Welcome to our World**

   

Welcome to New York! Or, more specifically, Brighton Beach. Right on the Coney Island Peninsula, the beach is home to the Krushnic Bratva (loosely based off the Solntsevskaya) and Pakhan Castiel Krushnic’s legitimate nightclub/hostel. Padshiye Angely (Fallen Angels) serves as the legal front for all illegal activities conducted by the Bratva. Those criminal activities may entail drug trafficking, extortion, robbery and smuggling, as well as some murdering and gambling, but the family spends a fair amount of time enjoying a drink on the beach or barside while watching a show.

 

 

**Meet the Family**

  

**Pakhan** _\- Castiel Krushnic_  
The Boss or Krestnii Otets "Godfather" and controls everything. The Pakhan controls four criminal cells in the working unit through an intermediary called an "Avtoritet."

 **Sovietnik** _\- Gabriel Krushnic_  
“Councilor” or the advisor to the Pakhan. This is his most trusted associate.

 **Kaznachey** _\- Balthazar Krushnic_  
The Bookkeeper who collects all money from Brigadiers and bribes the government to Obshchak (money mafia intended for use in the interests of the group).

 **Avtoritet** _\- Michael Krushnic_  
“Authority”. A captain in charge of a small group of men. He gives out jobs to Boyeviks ("warriors") and pays tribute to Pakhan. He runs a crew which is called a Brigade (Bratva). A Brigade is made up of 5–6 Boyeviks and Shestyorkas. There are four Avtoritet’s running criminal activity in the Russian Bratva.

 **Boyevik** _\- Gadreel Leonov, Inias Batishchev, Malachi Batischev, Ephraim Nozdrin_  
Warriors that work for an Avtoritet that has a special criminal activity to run. A Boyevik is in charge of finding new guys and paying tribute up to his Avtoritet. Boyeviks also make up the main strike force of a Brigade.

 **Krysha** _\- Lucifer Krushnic_  
Extremely violent "enforcers" as well as cunning individuals. Such enforcers are often employed to protect a business from other criminal organizations.

 **Torpedo** _\- Virgil Leonov_  
Contract Killers

 **Byki** _\- Constantine Leonov, Bartholomew Leonov_  
Bodyguards

 **Shestyorka** _\- Samandriel Nozdrin, Ion Nozdrin_  
An "associate" to the organization also called the "six" (from the lowest rank in a deck of 36 playing cards). A shestyorka is an errand boy for the organization and is the lowest rank in the Russian Mafia

 **Chastnyy Vrach** _\- Fergus Crowley_  
Private Doctor employed to an entire family, entrusted with family secrets.

  

 

 

  


 

  

*

  

 

Boston, home of Faneuil Hall, Fenway Park, Aerosmith, and the Patricolo Crime Family (based loosely on the Patriarca Crime Family). With small factions throughout Northern New England, Boston is the home base for one Don Dean Winchester. Using his favorite pastime of restoring classic cars, most of the family’s operations stems from a large auto shop -- the perfect cover for their illegal activities. The comfortable office space is also a perfect, private area for the Winchester Brothers to relax seeing as no one would dare knock on the door -- save for Bobby -- and interrupt them unless there was blood shed, not ordered by them.

 

 

 **Meet the Family**  

  

**Boss** _\- Dean Winchester_  
The boss is the head of the family, usually reigning as a dictator, sometimes called the Don or "Godfather". The boss receives a cut of every operation taken on by every member of his family and the region's occupying family.

 **Underboss** _\- Sam Winchester_  
The underboss, usually appointed by the boss, is the second in command of the family. The underboss often runs the day-to-day responsibilities of the family or oversees its most lucrative rackets. He usually gets a percentage of the family's income from the boss's cut. The underboss is usually first in line to become acting boss if the boss is imprisoned, and is also frequently seen as a logical successor.

 **Consigliere** _\- Bobby Singer_  
The consigliere is an advisor to the family and sometimes seen as the boss's "right-hand man". He is used as a mediator of disputes and often acts as a representative or aide for the family in meetings with other families, rival criminal organizations, and important business associates. In practice, the consigliere is normally the third ranking member of the administration of a family and was traditionally a senior member carrying the utmost respect of the family and deeply familiar with the inner-workings of the organization. A boss will often appoint a trusted close friend or personal advisor as his official consigliere.

 **Caporegime** _\- Benny Lafiette, Rufus Turner, Cole Trenton, Gordon Walker_  
A caporegime (also captain or skipper) is in charge of a crew, a group of soldiers who report directly to him. Each crew usually contains 10–20 soldiers and many more associates. A capo is appointed by the boss and reports to him or the underboss.

 **Soldier** _\- Garth Fitzgerald, Ben Braeden, Chuck Shurley, Ed Zeddmore, Harry Spangler, Frank Devereaux, Adam Mulligan_  
(Soldato in Italian) A member of the family and traditionally can only be of full Italian background (although today many families require men to be of only half Italian descent, on their father's side).

 

 

 

  


 

 

*

 

 

Nestled in Upper Manhatten, the 106th Street Crew (based off the 116th Street Crew of the Genovese Crime Family) and their Don Bellucci have no qualms about using who they want or getting what they want to achieve their means. They’re a ragtag, brutal team set close to the Krushnic home base and their the Italian’s the Russians have no reservations about eliminiating.

 

 

**Alphas/Betas/Omegas - Genders**  
There are male and females for each sub-gender. Alpha males have a knot that swells during intercourse, locking himself with his mate for the intention of mating while Alpha females have an internal knot that swells and locks her mate inside. Beta males and females have no altered body parts like Alphas and Omegas. Omega males produce slick and are capable of carrying children due to dual reproductive organs (they produce semen and have internal female organs. No external female parts). Omega females are close to Beta females except they are more fertile and produce more slick during times of arousal. They do not have dual reproductive organs like Omega males so for this reason, Alpha females and Omega female matings are not common.

 **Alphas/Betas/Omegas - Scents**  
Alpha scents are wood scents from hardwoods and softwoods to hearty bushes. Beta scents are ‘neutral’ and encompass a variety of nature scents from spring rain, fresh snow, and the ocean. Omega scents are floral from fragrant roses to fruit blossoms. Scents can be traced back to their country/region of origin. Although if a blood line is thin, they could take on the scent of an early descendant.

 **Regular Mating**  
Mating works just like dating; two people enjoy each other’s scents and company and start to date. If they decide to bond together, they do a mating ritual which includes mating bites (usually on the shoulder, but can be anywhere on the body) from each partner during an intimate moment (usually intercourse but doesn’t have to be). Mating pairs are Omega/Alpha, Alpha/Beta, or Beta/Omega. Although two genders can date and fool around together if they so chose, mating bites will not take. Once a pair is bonded, they take on the other’s scent along with their own.

To break a mating bond, it is extremely painful and expensive. Both partners must go through extensive separating procedures done through a licensed ‘Bond Breaker’ and it is complete when the mating mark has turned black.

 **How True Mates Work**  
True mates are similar to regular mating except they are ‘soul mates’. For each pair of true mates, they have a secondary scent that is the same for both partners. This secondary scent does not have to fall into the three ‘scent’ categories, it is a scent that pairs well and blends with the two mate’s scents. For example: Pine, Poinsettia, and Ginger. Secondary scents are built over time as two potential mates spend time together. Although it is accurate that true mates have a strong pull towards one another, it is not easily recognizable. A secondary scent becomes apparent and recognizable once a partner falls in love. During courting, the scent, primary and secondary, of one partner can linger on the other.

Unlike regular mating, once a True Mate pairing is made (the secondary scent is recognized by a partner) they couple takes on the other’s scent, even if no mating ritual has been performed. This can cause a problem if a regularly mated partner meets their true mate. There is a true mate for everyone, but it is rare for someone to find their True Mate during their fertile years and many settle for a compatible mate instead. Due to the painful nature of this, true mates discovered after a regular mating do not retain any relationship.

True mate bonds can not be broken.

 **Heats/Ruts**  
Omega males and females go through heats every three months and it is only at this time where conception is guaranteed. Conception out of a heat cycle is not impossible, however it is rare. Female Betas go through a mild form of heat cycles in which they are more fertile, but it is nowhere near the intensity it is for Omegas. There are heat suppressants available that stop the heat completely, but long term use has the potential to cause damage to the female reproductive organs. Once someone comes off of the suppressants, they immediately go into proliferation heat and risk for pregnancy is increased from that of a normal heat.

Alpha males and females go through a rut once a year and during extreme times of emotion. It is common for teenage Alphas to go through multiple ruts due to changing hormones and has led to many teenage pregnancies. A rut is common during a mating ritual and can occur multiple times during the first few years of a new mate bond. Beta males also have annual ruts, and are most fertile at this time.

Ruts and heats are not necessary for conception, but if both partners are in their cycles, it is highly likely a pregnancy will occur.

 

 

 

_You can see the fullsized character cards in all of their glory at Mari's Master Post![Go check it out and leave her some love!! ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10547416)_


	2. Alpha and Omega

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Russian Glossary Chapter One**  
>  _Brat(s)_ \- Brother(s)  
>  _Gospozha_ \- Mistress  
>  _Gryaznyy izmennik_ \- Dirty traitor  
>  _Im tak zhal’ brat_ \- I’m so sorry, brother  
>  _Izhets_ \- Liar  
>  _Izvinite_ \- Excuse me  
>  _Mingia_ \- Prick  
>  _Mladshiy brat_ \- Little brother  
>  _Ocharovatel’nyy_ \- Charmer  
>  _Ona mertva_ \- She’s dead  
>  _Padshiye Angely_ \- Fallen Angels  
>  _Pankis_ \- Punks  
>  _Platinovyy Komnata_ \- Platinum Room  
>  _Pozhaluysta izvinite menya_ \- please excuse me  
>  _Prisoski Petukh_ \- Cock Sucker  
>  _Proshchay_ \- Goodbye  
>  _Sem’ya_ \- Family  
>  _Sozhaleyu_ \- Sorry  
>  _predatel'_ \- betrayer  
>  _Zakhodi_ \- Come in  
>  _Zhena_ \- Wife  
>  _Zoloto Komnate_ \- Gold Room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
>   
> 

 

**_“You can get much farther with a kind word and a gun than you can with just a kind word alone.”  
\- Al Capone_ **

 

 

 

 

**Winchester Auto Repair | Northern Avenue | South Boston, Massachusetts**

 

“You don’t want to betray your Don, and I respect that, I truly do.”

Dean Winchester walked slowly across the concrete floor, his heavy boots loud in the large, nearly empty room. He twisted the tire iron in his hands and then stopped, pausing for a moment before turning back. “I respect it so much, I’ll do you a solid and repeat myself.”

He stopped in the center of the room, widening his stance and swinging the heavy metal tool in front of him slowly. The man slumped forward in the wooden kitchen chair tensed, but otherwise acted like he hadn’t heard anything. Well, that wouldn’t do. Dean smiled, shaking his head.

“I don’t appreciate being ignored, Vinny. Almost as much as I don’t like my shit being fucked with. Now…” Dean pressed the end of the iron against the concrete and sank down into a crouch, cocking his head to the side so he could see Vinny’s bruise-mottled face. “How is Old Barney intercepting my shipments?”

The man pried opened his lips and Dean watched, fascinated, as a blood tinged spit bubble grew at the corner of his mouth before popping, splattering specks of blood on his chin.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.” The corner of Dean’s lip twitched up and he leaned closer. “Care to speak up this time?”

The man sucked in a rattling breath, bloodied tongue licking across his lower lip before, “I will tell you bastards nothing!” he spat out, bloody pink spittle following, “You upstart guinea! You’re a _zip_ , a nothing!” He lifted his eyes enough to meet Dean’s with a hard glare. Blood congealed over his left eyelid, stopping him from opening his eye all the way, but the effect was there.

Slowly, Dean nodded. Then without another word he pushed back to his feet and swung the iron hard against Vinny’s left knee. The crack of bone splitting beneath the strength of the swing was followed seconds later by an ear splitting scream.

As Vinny’s scream bled into a whimper, Dean raised the tire iron again and yelled, “How is he intercepting my shipments?”

 _“Mingia!”_ Vinny spat on Dean’s feet, screaming out more insults as the iron came down on his right knee. “You think you can do worse to me than my Don? You’re barely holding onto your family as it is, can’t control your outsourcing. You’re a pup, Winchester, a wannabe. You-”

Dean slammed the iron across the side of Vinny’s head, effectively cutting off the rest of his words. A crash followed as the chair tipped over, the back cracking as it slammed into the concrete. He allowed himself a few more hits before he dropped the iron to the ground, smiling slightly as it clanked on the ground beside him.

Bloody footsteps followed him as he sidestepped the crumpled body and headed to the door. Seconds before he reached it, it was yanked open with a metallic groan and Dean was met with the grim face of Bobby Singer.  
“I told you not to kill him.” Bobby’s voice was gruff, displeased, but he reached forward and wiped the blood from Dean’s face with a soft rag. Despite himself, Dean smiled. “You’re going to start a war, boy.”

Dean reached for the rag, taking it from Bobby to finish cleaning up his neck and hands. The older man watched him for a second longer before turning towards the large office on the opposite side of the ‘work room’ from where Dean had just exited. Following after his Consigliere, Dean tossed the rag over his shoulder and nodded, unsurprised, when he found his younger brother waiting for him in the oversized office chair shoved behind the oak desk.

“Sammy,” Dean greeted him, letting Bobby shut the door behind them. He took a seat on the leather sofa, kicking his feet up onto the table and smirking when Sam wrinkled his nose as blood dropped from the boots onto the wood. “Success?”

The younger Winchester sighed as he leaned back in the chair and looked up to meet his older brother’s steady gaze. “Somewhat. I did get confirmation that it is Bellucci, but I couldn’t get any more from him.”

Dean nodded once, a beat of silence, then slammed his fist down on the armrest of the couch. “We need more information, Sammy! I don’t care if I have to whack the rest of his goddamn crew -”

“Speaking of,” Bobby cut in, sinking down to sit beside Dean, “What are we going to do with guido one and guido two?”

“We can send Gordon,” Sam offered, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Gordon’s getting pissed that you keep sending him for cleanup. Thinks you don’t like him,” Dean answered and Sam stared back for a second before rolling his eyes. Dean shook his head. “No, I want to send Braden anyway. Give the kid a taste of what he’s getting into. Gordon can go collect tribute.”

“You’re the boss,” Sam sighed and slipped his phone from his pocket. “What do you want to do about Bellucci?”

“Fuck if I know... Like I said, I have half a mind to work my way through his crew straight up to the fuckin’ administration.”

“That’s only going to result in bloodshed, and you know it.” Bobby leaned back into the couch, crossing his leg over his knee. “Their family is as big as ours, maybe bigger, and we’re more spread out than they are. It would be suicide.”

“Then what do you suggest, Bobby?” Dean closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “He’s taking my business, pissing on my territory, and you think ganking a few of his soldiers is making him give a shit?”

“I think,” Bobby’s voice dropped, completely serious, “we need to gain the Bratva’s assistance.”

Silence followed Bobby’s words and slowly Dean turned his head to the side to meet the older man’s eyes.

“You want me to reach out to the Russians, Bobby? _That’s_ how you’re advising me? They’re --”

“They’ve been our allies for a long time, Dean. We don’t engage much-- I’m sure it was way before your Daddy’s time that we last worked together --but Krushnic and his Bratva reside in Brooklyn. They’re right next door to Bellucci and they might have better luck than us at gaining information.”

“Are you suggesting that Sammy and I don’t know how to get information?” Dean spat back, uncomfortable with the idea of asking for help from anyone and hating how quickly he knew Bobby was right.

“I’m saying,” Bobby countered, leaning forward towards the young Don, “that you’ve got two stiffs, no more information than you started with, and half a million missing in AKs and ammo.” Dean scowled but he nodded his head, encouraging Bobby to continue. “We also haven’t heard from Nadio’s ship either, so potentially we’re missin’ another thirty in cocaine.”

Dean clenched his teeth, his hands tightening into fists as he tore his eyes away from Bobby’s face to meet Sam’s. Sam let out a slow breath, eyes locked with his brother as they communicated silently, and then Sam gave a slight jerk of his head.

“Alright.” Dean licked his lower lip, then turned to look back at Bobby. “Set it up.”

“They’re going to want both of you there,” Bobby warned, pushing himself off of the couch and strolling towards the door. He paused, hand on the handle, and looked back at the two brothers and their blood splattered clothes. “We’ll leave in three hours. Get some damn suits on.”

 

 

**Castiel’s Office | Brightwater Avenue | Brighton Beach, New York**

 

Castiel Krushnic tapped his finger against the dark cherry wood of his desk. He was in his office at Padshiye Angely, a strip club with a very exclusive twenty room hotel attached to it, kept for only the _best_ customers. The business was family owned and operated and Castiel himself had chosen the name; Fallen Angels, just like every 'angelic' child the Krushnic's had.

He had been going over the books for the past few hours, eyes straining at reading hundreds of lines of block print; someone had been stealing from them-- from _him_ \--for months now. After comparing the nights they were short to the employee log, he knew who the dirty _predatel'_ was and he was done letting the thief make away with his money.

A sharp knock at the door drew Castiel from his contemplation.

“ _Zakhodi!_ ,” he barked out and looked up to see who entered. His brother Gabriel, his Sovietnik and most trusted associate, entered at the command carrying a few file folders. With the door shut and locked behind him, Gabriel took the seat across from his younger brother and Pakhan, the head of Krushnic Bratva.

Gabriel set the files on the desk in front of him and reached into his coat, pulling out a discreet brown paper bag before tossing it onto the desk. “Courtesy of Crowley. Your monthly supply of scent blockers and your heat suppressants… Oh and,” he reached into his other pocket, “this was delivered to my box at the post office.” He pressed the bottle of Japanese black market Alpha cologne into Castiel's hand. The Pakhan nodded and unlocked the bottom drawer of his desk, placing his medications and cologne in before locking it back up.

Gabriel kicked back and propped his feet up on Castiel’s desk causing Castiel to scowl at him before knocking his feet to the floor. His expression softened as he thought of the birth control sitting next to his feet and he sighed. “I really appreciate you doing this for me Brother, meeting with Crowley every month and picking up my medications.”

Gabriel shrugged. “It's not a big deal Castiel, safer for me to do it than you. I mean how would it look if our Pakhan was meeting secretly with our shady-in-pocket Doctor? At least if I get caught I can say I have a _gospozha_ on the side.”

Castiel smirked. “And if that rumor ever got back to Kali that you had a mistress? She would cut your knot off, big brother.” Gabriel winced, knowing that would definitely be a possibility. But Gabriel knew what he was in for when he married the hot and feisty, dark haired, carmel skinned Beta who took no shit just like an Alpha.

Gabriel nodded, chuckling under his breath. “Oh, I have no doubt she would. But that's a risk I'm willing to take for my Pakhan… _Mladshiy brat_ ,” Gabriel looked fondly at Cas, “little brother, you know that I understand why no one else can know. You trusted _me_ after Papa passed and named you Pakhan. You told me everything and I will guard your secret from everyone, Castiel, even our family, our other _brats_ … They will never know, no one will. The risk is too high to trust anyone else.” Gabriel shook his head slowly and licked his lower lip, his brother’s one nervous gesture. Castiel nodded, knowing exactly where his brother’s thoughts were leading. “If _anyone_ found out you were an Omega posing as an Alpha who is Pakhan of the Bratva? It would be a death sentence. Not just from other families, Castiel, but our own as well.”

Gabriel was right; his older _brats_ Michael and Lucifer had not been happy when Papa named him Pakhan over either of them. As much as he hated to think his own brothers would betray him, he was almost positive they would be the first to try to take him out. It would give them a legitimate reason with no worry of backlash. “You are right, Gabriel,” he concurred.

“That's why you keep me around! Well, that and my devastatingly good looks.” He sat up and pointed to all the papers that littered Castiel's desk. “What is all of this?”

Castiel pointed at the club's books at the far left corner. “I have found the _predatel'_ who has been skimming money.”

Gabriel clicked his tongue, eyes flashing dangerously. “Tell me who the thief is, I will have it taken care of, Pakhan.”

Castiel shook his head. “No, Gabriel. I plan on taking care of this one _myself_.”

Gabriel gritted his teeth in response. “If you’re wanting to take care of it yourself... it can only mean one thing. The _predatel'_ is _sem’ya_.”

Castiel nodded and slid the file across the desk. Gabriel picked it up, glancing at the pages before clenching the entire file in his fist, crumpling the papers in his tight grip. “That _prisoski petukh_!” Gabriel shook his head, his eyes flashing up to meet Castiel’s. “That fucking cock sucker!” he repeated and threw the file hard onto the desk, “And after all we have done for his family!”

Castiel pulled the file back across the desk, smoothing it out. “Don't worry, it will be taken care of accordingly.”

“Good. _Gryaznyy izmennik_! There’s nothing worse than a dirty traitor that’s _sem’ya_! You expect more from your own flesh and blood, trust them to have your back,” the Sovietnik growled. He took a deep breath to quell his anger, then looked up to meet his younger brother’s eyes. “Dropping off your meds was not the only reason I stopped by. I have some business to discuss with you.” Castiel nodded, signaling him to proceed. “I got a call from Robert Singer, consigliere to the Don Dean Winchester.”

Castiel snorted, “You mean the puppy?”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Castiel, he’s thirty-two years old. You were twenty-two when Papa named you Pakhan. Were _you_ a puppy?” Castiel gritted his teeth, slightly irked his brother had called him out, though he motioned for Gabriel to continue.

“They want to meet. They require some assistance gaining information on Bellucci.” Gabriel paused and picked up the folders he had brought in with him. “I have the Winchester brothers’ dossier if you want to take a look.”

Castiel growled at the mention of the rival family who took out three of his cousins last month in an attempt to gain some of Castiel’s territory as he reached for the folders in his brother's hands, opening the Don’s first. A mugshot of the Alpha was attached to the front page. Castiel continued to look over the file as Gabriel explained their situation.

“It seems Bellucci is somehow intercepting their shipments… Singer reported that already this month they have lost half a mil’ in AKs, with the ammo." Gabriel shifted and Castiel fixed him with a glare before he could even think about putting his feet back up on the desk. "Plus, seems possible they lost another thirty thousand in coke, and," Gabriel leaned toward his brother, "they haven’t been able to make contact with their next expected ship.”

Castiel shut the Don’s file and rubbed the stubble on his chin before opening the one on the younger Winchester brother. He immediately noticed a similar type mugshot. “Oh, Bellucci definitely got their cocaine. His _pankis_ have been trying to sell that shit outside the club!” Castiel reached for his pen, tapping it against the desk top in irritation. “I _hate_ having his punks out there bragging about how their Don intercepted some ‘huge shipment’.”

Gabriel’s eyebrows rose. “Patricolo’s?”

Castiel gave him a curt nod as he shut the file. “They were bragging so much about having plenty of smack to unload… _Pankis!_ ” Castiel threw the pen down, the plastic bouncing off the desk and onto the floor. “I had to shoot one last week just to send a message to Bellucci to stay the fuck out of my territory!”

Gabriel huffed, “ _Had_ to shoot him, Castiel?”

Castiel shrugged. “I was having a bad night, needed a little stress relief. And he was pissing me off.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes and held out his cell. “They are waiting for my call, I told them I had to take the matter to the Pakhan.” Castiel was contemplating the request when his Sovietnik spoke again. “If you want my opinion, we have been allies for a long time. Granted, it's been since Grandad’s time that we last worked together, but they are still our allies and you can never have too many of those.” Gabriel smirked. “Also, they hate Bellucci just as much as we do. We can't bring Bellucci down alone without a lot of unnecessary bloodshed and neither can they, but together? Bellucci wouldn't stand a chance.”

Castiel hummed, contemplating. “Tell them we accept and are willing to meet. Have them come down tonight and let Hannah know to ready some rooms for them. Tell the Don we will meet at seven A.M. in the _Zoloto Komnate_ ,” Castiel decided, knowing the golden room was the biggest conference room in the club. “And let Meg know their drinks are on the house should they frequent the club tonight.”

Gabriel nodded. “And who do we want to attend the meeting tomorrow?”

Castiel leaned forward and placed his elbows on his desk, threading his fingers together and resting his chin atop them. “The whole Bratva.”

 

 

 

**Winchester Limo | Interstate 90 West Bound | Boston MA to New York, NY**  

 

“I don’t know why we couldn’t have taken Baby…” Dean muttered, sinking back into the plush leather seats of their limousine. Beside him, Sam snorted a laugh and shoved his legs out straight, crossing his feet at the ankles.

“I don’t know -- There’s not much room in that ol’ car of yours.”

“Shut your mouth, Sammy,” Dean shot back, kicking his brother’s leg and causing him to curse.

“Idjits…” Bobby shifted in his seat, centering himself across from the two brothers. “Even though we’re going into Brooklyn on an invitation from the Bratva, they’re not the only family in Brooklyn or in New York. Driving your trademark ride through the city streets would not be wise.”

“Well, could we at least have taken the jet?”

Bobby threw Sam a look just as Dean turned to glare at him. Before Dean was able to reply, Bobby cut him off with a sharp, “We’re here for business boys, not pleasure. So can we stop bickering like children?” Bobby leaned closer to the brothers and he addressed them in turn. “Sam, you know why we’re not flying. Dean, you’re fine being a damn passenger. Now both of you sit back, shut up, and listen to what I am telling you.”

“You know if anyone else talked to me that way Bobby, they’d be missing a few body parts.” Dean glared across the limo but settled back against his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. Sam snorted once more but followed suit, the pair waiting for Bobby to continue.

“Alright, now,” Bobby pulled out a thick file from his briefcase, “let’s just recap. The Krushnic Bratva is a tight knit family, in all senses of the word.”

“We haven’t done anything with them since before Dad passed,” Dean commented as he took the folder Bobby handed him, flipping it open to look down at the first page. “Did you ever meet any of them?”

Bobby nodded. “I met Nikolai Krushnic, the former Pakhan, back in the seventies. Even back then he had a God complex. That never changed… in part, they’re like us. But,” Bobby grimaced, “they’re old school. They follow old rules and even older laws.”

Sam looked up at that, pointing down at a bloody black and white crime scene photo. “Some of the stuff they do makes us look like cupcakes.”

Bobby huffed a laugh, nodding as he glanced to picture Sam was referencing. “They’re brutal, I’ll give you that. And they don’t give a rat’s ass about very much… Now, when Nikolai was diagnosed with cancer in the nineties, he made damn sure to get all five of his boys up to his speed. He wanted them just as, if not more, brutal as him; Lucifer, Michael, Balthazar, Gabriel and his youngest, Castiel.”

“I didn’t realize Castiel was the youngest,” Dean murmured.

Bobby nodded his confirmation before he continued, “On his deathbed, the old Pakhan named Castiel as his successor at just twenty-two years old and essentially drove a wedge between the brothers. While you and Sam were still learning how to use your weapons properly, the Krushnics were fighting an internal war for power, brother against brother.”

“Why would he name the youngest son as his successor?” Dean asked, glancing over at Sam. “Dad never would’ve chosen Sam, even if he was a better man for the job.”

“Because the Russians chose successors by whoever shows the most potential, whoever is the most brutal, and Castiel was ruthless.” Bobby paused before giving a half-hearted laugh. “He proved that when he held his oldest brother Michael at gunpoint before murdering his entire family as punishment for his disobedience.”

“He killed his brother’s family?” Sam reached into small cabinet beside his seat and pulled out a bottle of whiskey, eyebrow raised in disbelief.

“He did.” Bobby paused, waiting for Sam to fill three crystal tumblers with the amber liquid, and took a swallow before he went on. “His sister-in-law and four nephews. It was effective. Since that night the family has been united as one front.”

Dean nodded, vaguely remembering overhearing his dad talking about the incident. He twisted his glass in his hand before setting it down beside him. “So we’re meeting a psychopath.”

“No, son.” Bobby took another sip of his drink before fixing Dean with a pointed stare. “You’re meeting the Pakhan of the Bratva and you,” he pointed his glass at his Don, “need to remember that he’s not only brutal and ruthless, but very effective.”

Bobby placed down his glass and pulled out two more files, much thicker than the first, handing one to each of the brothers. “He demands respect and he gets it. Now,” he nodded to the folder Dean was opening, “that’s the latest on his brother Gabriel. He and Castiel, they’re like you and Sam. Tight. Always has his brother’s back.” He gave a soft smile to the brothers before continuing, “He’s a mix of me and Sam. He is the Sovietnik and nothing touches Castiel unless it goes through Gabriel first.”

Dean let out a low whistle as Sam sat forward, both of them looking at their respective folders in which a photograph of two men was attached. There was a printed tag at the bottom: **CASTIEL KRUSHNIC (A) & GABRIEL KRUSHNIC (A) AUG2013**.

Dean looked up, raising an eyebrow at Bobby. “This is the best we’ve got?” He pointed down at the blurry photograph in which Castiel’s face was blocked by large, dark sunglasses and half hidden behind his brother.

Bobby sighed and gave a small nod. “Unfortunately. We have ample photographs of the Sovietnik, even the other members of the Bratva, but Castiel is extremely selective of his public visits and always heavily guarded-- both through members of his family and by the clothing he wears.”

Sam nodded absently and flipped through the demographic pages for Castiel and Gabriel. He stopped at the next picture. **BALTHAZAR KRUSHNIC (A) JUN2014**. “What do we know about this one?” Sam tipped the folder forward to show the picture of a a man in a sharp black suit, despite the photo being taken on the beach. “Balthazar? Last I heard he was he was working protection?”

Bobby shook his head. “Not anymore. Now he’s your counterpart, he’s the Bratva’s Kaznachey, accountant. Like you, he runs all their transactions in and out of the country.”

Dean flipped to the next page and a photo of two men standing and talking side by side, though both faced the camera. **MICHAEL KRUSHNIC (A) & LUCIFER KRUSHNIC (A) JUL2014**. He vaguely recognized the men from sitting in on meetings with his father. “And Michael? Lucifer? What about them?”

“Michael took Balthazar’s place as Avtoritet and Lucifer is their Krysha, both powerful positions. Michael has charge of the Boyeviks, the other does most of their wet work.”

“God, the language!” Dean groaned, the folder almost slipping off his lap as he drank down the last of his drink.

“Well,” Bobby gave a soft chuckle, “their titles are important to them _in_ their mother tongue, so get used to them. Lastly, they have the Boyeviks, Bykis, and Shestyorkas. They’re like our soldiers, but each has a specific focus.”

Dean bit his bottom lip as he read through the rest of the folder. The end of the file held pictures of the Bratva members, some with black lines through them if they’d become deceased. There were Krushnics, Leonovs, and Nozdrins with most of the members Alpha status marked with ‘A’ and a few Beta members with ‘B’, the latter of which honestly surprised Dean.

Suddenly, he looked over at Bobby and let the folder fall closed. “Any of these guys going to be at the meeting?” His eyes narrowed as he looked at his older counselor when Bobby didn’t immediately answer. “It’s just you and me, Sam, and a couple of guards."

"We'd be a little outnumbered," Sam finished his brother's thought.

"Listen..." Bobby gathered up the folders and shoved them back into his briefcase. "Your focus needs to be on the Krushnic brothers because they’re the ones you need to make sure you don’t cross if we want to walk out of there alive.” Bobby took a deep breath, shifting in the leather seat. "It doesn't matter how many of the others are there. Plus, none of the others are important enough for you two to worry about."

“Allies,” Dean said, nodding his head, “We need to make sure we don’t get killed by allies.”

“You need to make sure you don’t get killed by nobody,” Bobby replied quickly, then downed the rest of his whiskey, wincing at the slight burn before he slammed his glass back down. “Now, I’m old and need my beauty rest. You two keep it down, will ya?”

“’Course Bobby,” Sam laughed, swirling his drink in his glass. “I’ll wake you when we get into the city.”

“You morons do anything to me while I’m sleeping and I’ll kill you myself,” Bobby added, eyes closed, and Dean couldn’t help but smile at the older man.

“He has no faith in us, Sammy.”

“He probably remembers the last time we drove somewhere,” Sam replied, draining his glass and then sliding it back into the cabinet. “I don’t know how they think you’re going to get up at the crack of dawn for this meeting after they let you lose in that club all night…”

Dean smiled, raising his glass once more and giving his younger brother a wink. “Castiel thinks if he loads us up with alcohol, we’ll be easy to manipulate in the morning. So priorities, Sammy. Focus on the sex instead!”

In response, Sam rolled his eyes and reached back down for his tumbler.

 

 

  

_ _

_  
**Padshiye Angely**_ **\- Night Club | Brightwater Avenue | Brighton Beach, New York**  

 

“Behave.” Bobby’s parting words were barely heard over the sound of the club. The moment they walked in the doors, the heat from the grinding bodies pressed against them along with the base of the dance music and the intermingling scents of sex and heat. Dean breathed in deep, reaching up to unbutton the top of his shirt before running a hand down his chest.

“You’re disgusting.” Sam rolled his eyes, knocking shoulders with Dean before pressing forward into the crowd.

Dean just smiled after his brother’s retreating form and made his own way through the crowd.

When they’d pulled up in front of the hotel, Dean had raised an eyebrow in Bobby’s direction. Padshiye Angely, at only two stories, was a relatively small building compared to the rest of those on the pier. The lobby was typical for a hotel, clean and polished, and once their bags were taken from them, the bellhop led the three of them to a back elevator. As they stepped on, Dean saw there were two additional floors beneath the ground floor.

As the elevator signaled their arrival, Dean was more than impressed as it opened out into the night club. The club was large, taking up the entire bottom floor of the building, and from Dean’s spot just outside the elevator he could see a large circular bar surrounded by four different dance stages. There were tables and booths placed strategically around the floor and although the place was packed, it didn’t _feel_ crowded.

The decorations made Dean laugh to himself. The Russians have always been flashy. Everything was decorated in shades of silver and blue; the bar and dance stages the darkest accents in the room. The few dancers that were performing all wore silver and had thin, white wings. As Dean moved into the club he headed for the farthest stage which held both male and female dancers.

The dancers were just starting their routine as Dean slid into an empty table, leaning his arm over the back of his chair to watch them. He could smell the light floral scents of the dancers, letting him know they were both omegas, and he breathed in deep, letting their aroma and the view of their lithe bodies glistening with glitter and sweat relax him. When they finished their routine, he clapped lightly with the rest of the crowd.

After a few minutes the staff came out to wipe down the stage and Dean pushed away from the table to head to the bar. Bobby was probably already on his second drink and was laughing with a pretty woman beside him at the end of the bar. Dean caught his eye and gave him a wink before perusing the bar himself.

There was a pretty brunette a few seats away but as Dean took a step in her direction, he was hit by the most intoxicating scent he’d ever smelled. He stopped short with a soft gasp and breathed in deeply, following his nose to a tall, well-built Omega sitting at the bar. He made a quick scan to see if there was a Beta or Alpha that was accompanying the man. The Omega turned, large clear blue eyes scanning the crowd of the club carefully, and Dean smirked and made his way over to the empty seat beside him.

“Orange blossoms?” he asked, waving down the bartender as he sank down onto the stool. The Omega turned to face him, confusion clear on his face. Dean chuckled and ordered his drink-- bourbon on ice --and then turned his body to the side. “Orange blossoms… You smell like orange blossoms.”

Dean watched as the Omega glanced around the bar before turning back to face him with his eyebrow raised. “ _Izvinite?_ ” Dean stared back at him, shaking his head slightly and the Omega tried again, “Excuse me, are you talking to me?”

Dean smiled when he heard the man’s voice; baritone, coarse, and thick with a Russian accent. “Of course I am, who else would I be talking to?” Dean leaned forward, smoothing the lapel of his suit down.

“Orange blossoms? I’m sorry… I don’t understand.” He looked uncomfortable now and he picked up his drink to smell it, almost like he was checking to see if he had the correct one. Then he glanced up, confused as he looked over Dean again. He said carefully, “You must be mistaken… I don’t smell orange blossoms.”

Dean raised an eyebrow in return and picked up the glass of whiskey that had been placed in front of him. “ _You_ , handsome.” Dean leaned in, scenting him carefully so he wouldn’t invade the man’s space. He smelled a strong spruce scent, almost medicinal, with a hint of some warm spice, and he fought the urge to look around to see if maybe the Omega _was_ with someone. “You smell like orange blossoms. And… spruce?” Dean crinkled his nose. “Not a natural spruce though, it's fabricated. Now why would you cover your sweet scent up? ”

He paused again to see if the Omega would have any reaction. The Omega was staring at him, eyes wide and unsure. Then something flashed over his features and he met Dean with a steely blue stare. Despite the fact it was meant to be intimidating, Dean felt himself relaxing.

“Has no one has ever told you that before?” Dean took a sip of the amber liquid, loving the burn at the back of his throat before he placed the glass back on the logo embossed napkin.

Dean watched as slowly, the Omega raised the glass to his lips, taking a careful and calculated sip of his drink. After just a moment’s hesitation, the man knocked back the rest of his drink and motioned for a refill from the bartender. He cleared his throat and then said, “I can honestly say no one has ever told me that before.”

“Well, I suppose I should be lucky that I’m the one to do the honors.” He smiled and signaled to the bartender that he would buy this round. “I’m John,” he offered, the lie natural.

“Dmitri,” the reply came after a pregnant pause and the Beta who was servicing this side of the bar gave the pair of them an odd look. He glanced quickly at the Omega before sliding the drink over and turning towards his other customers.

“So… do you come here often?” Dean asked, tearing his eyes away from the bartender and forgetting his odd behavior as soon as he locked eyes with Dmitri.

The side of Dmitri’s lips turned up into a half smile and he hummed. “You could say I spend a fair share of my time in here. And you? You do not seem like a regular... what brings you in here tonight?”

“First time,” Dean answered, watching the way the man’s bottom lip pressed against his glass as he sipped his drink. “Haven’t been to the city since I was a child, actually.”

Dmitri held his glass in his hands, rolling it, gently swirling the clear liquid and ice around as he grinned coyly at Dean. “And how are you enjoying yourself so far?”

“Well, I am enjoying it much more now.” Dean smiled again, winking at Dmitri and finishing off his drink. “So…” Dean let his eyes trail down the Omega’s form, taking his time to look over the tight fabric of the man’s tailored suit pants pressed against his groin before raking back up his torso. “How much would it cost for a night with a pretty thing like you?”

Dmitri smirked at him as he took another sip of his drink and sucked one of the ice cubes into his mouth seductively. “Oh, _John_.” The Omega drew out his name and for a moment Dean wondered if Dmitri had seen through the farce. But then he continued and Dean focused on his next words. “So, so much more than you’ve got.”

Dean clucked, shifting closer in his seat so he could lean forward so his lips were just inches away from Dmitri’s ear. “And if I told you money wasn’t a problem?”

The Omega darted his tongue out and ran it along his bottom lip, watching as the Alpha followed his movements. “Even though you are quite the _ocharovatel'nyy,_ John...” Dean furrowed his brows. “Charmer,” Dmitri clarified with a small smirk before continuing, “I’m not for sale.”

“Good, I much prefer my company to be eager and willing.” Dean reached forward, laying his hand over Dmitri’s and feeling the heat radiating from the Omega’s skin. He could feel Dmitri leaning into him and Dean felt his body reacting, the heat and energy from the club mixing with Dmitri’s scent and the burn of alcohol, causing his head to spin.

“So… would you like to head up to my room?” He leaned in closer, whispering his question against Dmitri’s ear, and then had to bite back a groan as he scented the air. God, he thought the Omega smelled good before he was wet and now --

“Thanks for the drink,” Dmitri said quickly, tearing his hand away from beneath Dean’s. “But I need to be going. I have somewhere to be early tomorrow. _Proshchay_.”

Dean stared, confused, after the fleeing Omega and was left alone with too tight suit pants and two empty glasses. What the hell was that? Dean _knew_ Dmitri had been interested, he could still smell his lingering slick, and then the moment Dean actually touched him he bolted?

Dean turned around in his barstool to see if maybe Dmitri had just gotten a moment of cold feet and was now on his way back over. Instead, his eyes trailed over his brother Sam dancing close with a short brunette in an even shorter red dress. Dean stared for a second, reaching for his glass of whiskey, and then his brother’s oversized hands reached to the small of her back and drew her in closer. Really, even for a strip club it was obscene.

Slamming his glass back down on the counter, Dean pulled two crisp hundreds from his pocket and threw them down on the bar top before he stalked onto the dance floor.

“We’re leaving!” he demanded the second he was standing beside Sam and the woman. The woman gave him a look of disgust and plastered herself closer to Sam’s body, the scent of posies thick and choking around Sam’s heady pine scent.

“No, we’re not. I’m a little busy here, Dean,” Sam replied, barely glancing at Dean over his shoulder. Dean exhaled slowly, he could feel his blood boiling in his veins, and he clenched his fists to stop himself from ripping his brother’s arm back and making him face him.

“I am not asking you as your brother. I am telling you.” He dropped his voice but knew Sam heard him when his younger brother paused in all his movements, shoulders stiffening, and he turned slowly, releasing the woman to face Dean head on.

“Are you seri--”

“We’re leaving.”

Dean watched as the veins in his brother’s neck bulged, knowing Sam was clenching his teeth as tightly as he could. But without another word, Sam gently pulled himself from the brunette’s lingering grasp and pushed his way off of the dance floor to the elevator. Dean could still feel his hands shaking. He felt hot, almost dizzy, and when he glanced back over to the bar he saw Bobby’s nod and knew his Consigliere would meet them at their elevator.

“You’re an asshole, pulling rank on me like that,” Sam fired at him as soon as they stepped into the elevator. Dean held the door for a few seconds and Bobby slid in, hitting the brightly lit Number Three to take them to their floor. “Like seriously, what the fuck, Dean?”

“I said we were leaving, Sam. We’re not here for pleasure.” Dean glared over at his brother’s face. “You would do best to remember that.”

“Fuck you,” Sam spat back and before Dean could respond, Bobby moved.

“Enough, Sam. Watch your tongue,” Bobby warned, pressing Sam’s body back against the wall of the elevator. Dean felt a slight pang of guilt when Sam’s head hit the wall from the sudden movement, but he shoved that down and crossed his arms over his chest. “You good?”

“Yeah, Bobby. I’m good.” Sam straightened out his suit jacket and exhaled slowly before glancing over at Dean. “My apologies, _Don_. I forgot myself.”

“Accepted,” Dean replied and then cleared his throat.

Silence fell over the elevator and Dean waited until they were at the door to Sam’s room before breaking it. “Besides…” he threw out casually, watching Bobby shake his head and continue to his own room, “she smelled like posies, Sam. Posies. That means _death_.”

Dean laughed at the two slammed doors he received in response.

 

 

 

**Castiel’s Office | Brightwater Avenue | Brighton Beach, New York**  

 

Castiel had tried his best not to run from the bar, but he didn’t stop moving until he was through the service doors and on his way into his office. Never, in the twelve years he had been Pakhan, had Castiel _ever_ felt uncomfortable in his club. He never should’ve stayed sitting there when _Dean fuckin’ Winchester_ scented him correctly. If he had actually run from the bar, his Bykis would’e been on ‘John’ in a heartbeat.

First off, what in all hell was that about? He had recognized the Don, a little older than the photo Gabriel had showed him, but it didn’t seem like Winchester had any clue who he was. It shocked Castiel even more when Dean used his late father’s name, but when it was clear that the young Don didn’t have a clue as to who Castiel really was, he decided to continue their conversation out of curiosity.That and the fact that Winchester was sexy as hell with his strong jawline and his light brown hair artfully spiked. The audacity of the Don trying to pick up the Pakhan in a bar was almost laughable. Except for the fact that somehow, some way, Dean _knew_.

Castiel hadn’t noticed the day before, when he was looking at the Alpha’s file, just how attractive Dean actually was. The grainy mugshot had definitely not done him justice. Castiel would have never guessed there’d be freckles spattered across his nose and cheeks, drawing further attention to his eyes. Those eyes…. such a beautiful green. It reminded him of the moss that grew in the forests of Russia when he was a child. It had also been far too long since anyone had found Castiel attractive instead of terrifying.

The conversation started taking an interesting turn and Castiel had felt things he hadn’t ever felt before. But the moment ‘John’ had laid his hand over his, all rationalization flew out the window. Castiel had felt hot, _too_ hot, his skin starting to tingle. It couldn’t be that time already, it was too early, wasn’t it?

Although Castiel didn’t have a heat every three months like most Omegas thanks to his extra strength heat suppressants, he still found himself feeling more irritable at _that_ time; his skin would feel prickly, like he was being pierced by thousands of needles, and he always felt overheated. Castiel mentally did the math in his head and sure enough _now_ , now was the time he should be in heat. And Winchester sitting next to him seemed to have amped it up.

Then, as if ‘John’ scenting him and knowing he was an Omega wasn’t bad enough, Castiel got to experience something he never had in his life since being told he would be presenting as an Omega: he felt himself get _slick_. And Winchester, dammit, had smelled that too, had _known_ what was happening to him! If he closed his eyes he could still see the feral smile on the-- unfortunately, extremely handsome --Alpha’s face, his moss colored eyes blown wide with arousal.

Castiel shifted, uncomfortable in his suit as he pushed open the door to his office. He threw himself into the room and just as he slammed the door behind himself and leaned against the glass panel on the side of the door frame to cool his heated skin, Gabriel’s voice broke through his panic.

“Castiel… are you... horny?”

Castiel jumped and spun around to see his brother sitting in his chair, an amused expression on his face. He stared back at him indignantly. “What the fuck are you doing in my office? And sitting in my chair?”

Gabriel shrugged. “Trying to find some peace and quiet from the club for a few and I knew no one would disturb me in here.” Gabriel leaned forward and scented the air again, a flash of worry crossing his features. “Castiel, are you slick?”

“Yes,” Castiel growled dangerously.

Gabriel furrowed his brows. “How is that even possible? The suppressants you’re on are supposed to stop slick production... This has never happened before! What were you doing when,” Gabriel waved his hands in the air, “you know, when it happened.”

Castiel huffed. “I was having a drink, at the bar… with an…” Castiel paused and felt his already hot face flush. “With an Alpha.”

“An Alpha?!” Gabriel roared. “Who the fuck was this Alpha, Castiel?”

“Watch your tone, brother,” Castiel warned before he continued. “He approached me at the bar, but he _knew_ , Gabriel. He knew I was an Omega! How the fuck did he know? Is there something off with my scent?”

Gabriel shook his head no, subtly scenting the air once more. “I smell slick, but if I didn't know you were an Omega I would think you just fucked one. Your scent is the same; all I can smell is Alpha from the cologne you wear.”

“Then how did _he_ know, Gabriel?”

“Maybe he was mistaken, Castiel.”

Castiel slammed his hand on his desk. “No, he knew Gabriel. He even called me out on covering up my scent with the damn cologne! Now I demand to know how this Alpha was able to fuckin’ figure it out!” Castiel sighed and pushed forward, hating to give up this next part of information. But he knew Gabriel needed to know. “It wasn’t some random Alpha, Gabriel…” he sighed, licked his lower lip and found for once he couldn’t look at his brother. “That alone would’ve be bad enough.”

“Then who?” Gabriel’s brows rose in surprise, knowing his brother was not one to socialize. “You know him?”

Castiel shook his head as he paced. “No. Recognized him… It’s Dean Winch--”

“Oh, fuckin’ hell!” Gabriel exclaimed, cutting him off immediately.

“ _Exactly_.” Castiel rubbed at his chin, feeling a sudden headache at the forefront of his head. “This is not good! What if he outs me Gabriel? And why the hell wouldn’t he?” Castiel blew out a breath, slightly panicking now. Was there a way he could buy the Alpha’s silence, would the Don give them any warning? Castiel shook his head, clearing those thoughts. “This can’t happen again.”

Gabriel nodded and watched Castiel lean against his desk for a minute, reflecting, before rounding it and unlocking the bottom drawer to pull out the brown paper bag that held his heat suppressants and scent blockers. He tossed them onto his desk, then pointed at them. “I started taking those today-- they have to be faulty. There is no other reasonable explanation; it’s the only thing I can think of.” Castiel grimaced as he went to sit down and felt the wetness between his ass cheeks. “Gabriel, go to the _Platinovyy Komnata_ and retrieve my suit from the closet. Then call Crowley, ask him for new medications, tell him these are either tampered with or expired.”

The Sovietnik stared back at Castiel for a moment, obviously contemplating. But he shoved whatever thoughts he had away and nodded as he left Castiel's office. Castiel leaned against his desk and ran his fingers through his sweat damp hair; he still felt overly heated, and his skin crawled, but unlike before he felt the slight burn of desire, of want. He could still smell the Alpha, the rich aroma of pine mixed with his own musk and deep down he liked it. Castiel growled. What the fuck was it about that Alpha? He made him feel like... like an _Omega_ and Castiel hated that feeling. It made him feel weak.

Gabriel returned with his suit a few minutes later and Castiel could still tell he was biting his tongue as he grabbed the suit from his hands. He nodded a quick thanks and went into his office’s private bathroom to change. When he emerged, he carried a trash bag containing his tainted suit. Castiel threw it by the door and pointed at it. “Take that when you go and burn it.”

Gabriel nodded, eyeing the bag before clearing his throat. “I spoke to Crowley, Castiel, and he assured me the meds were neither tampered with nor expired. He said they are from the same batch as last month and you had no problem with them.”

Castiel growled. “Clearly _something_ is wrong with them. I want a new batch and not from the same as those came from! And I want them tonight. I have an important meeting tomorrow and I will not be taking any chances, Gabriel. So you will call him back tonight, and he will meet you and give you replacements.” Castiel took a deep breath, realizing his voice had risen. He cracked his neck and met Gabriel’s eyes. “I don't give a fuck what's he's doing… This is now his number one priority! I'm going home, you can bring them to me there.” Castiel picked up the medications and tossed them into the trash bag with his ruined suit. “You can burn them too.”

Gabriel stood, picked up the trash bag, and followed Castiel out of his office with his cell phone already in hand, ready to call Crowley and let him know of Castiel's _‘request’_. “You're the boss, _mladshiy brat_.”

 

 

**Zoloto Komnate | Brightwater Avenue | Brighton Beach, New York**

 

Castiel arrived at the meeting room over an hour early. He was sitting at the head of the long table and he felt jittery as he tapped his pen over and over on the dark wood, his leg constantly bouncing up and down. Gabriel had stopped by his house at one o’clock in the morning to drop off his new batch of meds but even after that, sleep didn't come easily. Castiel tossed and turned, all kinds of different scenarios running through his mind. What if it wasn't the medicine? What if it was him? Or even a combination? His body could be _rejecting_ the medication because he’d been on it far too long... Hell, he had never had a heat, and Crowley bitched at him constantly about how that that wasn’t good for an Omega’s body.

The first thing Castiel did upon waking up from his measly three hours of sleep was take his new medications and douse himself in his spruce Alpha cologne. He wasn't taking any chances today, especially since he had his meeting with Don Winchester. Castiel didn't feel any different, but hell, he had felt the same as he always had yesterday when Winchester scented him!

 _Orange blossoms._ Winchester said he smelled like orange blossoms. Was that his true scent? He’d never gotten the chance to know before suppressants and no one had ever properly scented him before yesterday.

The Pakhan’s head snapped up when he heard the door open and he saw Gabriel standing there. “ _Mladshiy brat_ , you look like shit! Did you get any sleep last night?”

“That you for your brutal honesty, Gabriel,” Castiel deadpanned. “I managed to get about three hours.”

Gabriel came in, shut the door behind him, and sat down by Castiel with a small, concerned sigh. “Is this about what happened yesterday? I'm sure it was a fluke… you got your new medications and you smell like _pure_ Alpha. So don't worry about that, focus on your meeting with Don Winchester. Plus...” He paused, mulling over what he wanted to say.

“Plus?”

Gabriel gave his brother a quick smile. “I don’t see what purpose it would serve Don Winchester to out you. They’re coming to you, to us, for help. So,” he stood back up, “just focus on the meeting. You hold the power, Pakhan.”

Castiel nodded. “You are right, Gabriel. That needs to be my number one priority.”

“And, for fuck’s sake, relax! You’re practically vibrating out of your skin,” his Sovietnik chided.

“It's not just the scenting and this meeting causing it,” Castiel growled.

Gabriel huffed and rolled his eyes. “Great, it's _that_ time. Ugh, you are more of a dick than usual during your pseudo heat.”

Castiel glared daggers at Gabriel. “If you were not my favorite brother I would have ended you long ago.”

Gabriel smirked. “Guess it's a good thing I am then.”

Castiel waved him off with a smirk. Looking around, he made sure the room was set to his advantage. In the middle of the room, and where he was sitting, sat a large rectangular oak table, stained and sealed more times than Castiel cared to think about due to the ‘use’ it received at some of the more rough meetings. He was impressed with how well his cleaning crew worked and knew that unless you looked very closely, you wouldn’t be able to see the multiple dings and holes carved into the table. Lining each wall were extra Queen Anne chairs for when the Bratva met with larger families. Don Winchester had chosen to only bring his Consigliere, Underboss and two guards to their meeting today, so there was no need to drag out the golden swathed chairs.

He took in the rest of the arrangement. Per his request, his bar staff had placed an assortment of bottled beverages and a large coffee urn on the marble side table that sat at the head of the room. All of the glasses and mugs were gold plated-- it was the _Zoloto Komnate_ after all.

He smiled. Even as a young boy, the room had always impressed him. Its black lacquer walls interspersed with glowing amber and orange panels, the smell of the black leather seats, the framed Chagall’s and Kandinsky’s on the walls -- it all spoke of a rich heritage that he was proud to call his own. He wondered what Don Winchester would think seeing him in his own element, in charge, proving to him an Omega can lead just as efficiently as an Alpha. Castiel quickly dismissed the idea. It didn’t matter what the other family’s opinion was, only that they realized the Krushnic’s wielded power.

Castiel walked over to one of the shadow boxes inset into the wall and picked up his favorite Faberge egg, the ‘lost’ Chariot Egg. Opening it, he let his fingertip trail over the small angel pulling a jeweled egg in a golden chariot. It was his good luck charm, for lack of a better term, and he always seemed to draw strength from the figure depicted amidst the gemstones.

As the meeting time grew closer, the rest of the Bratva started to arrive. Castiel regarded them as they took their seats around the table. He watched his brothers-- Michael was talking to Lucifer in a hushed tone, while Balthazar lit a cigar. His cousins and Boyeviks, Gadreel, Inas, Malachi, and Ephraim were laughing quietly as a staff member brought them the strong coffee they preferred. His attention was drawn to the door as more cousins came in. He grimaced slightly as he saw his Torpedo, Virgil, elbow his Shestyorkas, Samandriel and Ion, out of the way to get one of the remaining seats. Lastly, bringing up the rear and taking their position by the doors were his Bykis, Constantine and Bartholomew, also cousins.

Gabriel took a look around the table at the Bratva and clapped his hands, rubbing them together. “Well the gang's all here, so what do you say I go get the Winchesters so we can give them a proper Russian welcome?” The Sovietnik glanced over to Castiel and he nodded. With confirmation from his Pakhan, Gabriel stood and exited the room to retrieve the Winchesters.

Gabriel made his way through the empty club and up the service elevator to the hotel floor. He took his time as he strolled down the corridor, knowing his brother could use the extra few moments to compose himself completely before meeting the Winchesters. He approached the first door and knocked gently, knowing that Robert Singer had been up since dawn just like he himself had to prepare for this meeting.

"Ready?" the man's gruff voice greeted as he opened the door and stuck out his hand. "Robert Singer."

"Gabriel Krushnic," Gabriel replied and accepted the older man's hand in his own. "Pakhan Krushnic is ready to meet with you and your Don."

Singer nodded and turned back around, finishing pinning his cuff links to his wrists and straightening his tie before he followed Gabriel into the hallway and to the adjacent room. He knocked once and Sam Winchester, Underboss to the Don, exited the room and smoothed down his jacket. He held his hand out for Gabriel to shake.

"They grow them tall in Boston..." Gabriel muttered under his breath and Singer gave a short laugh before quickly clearing his throat and moving on to the other door.

When the Don emerged from the room, Gabriel didn't know what he had been expecting. But Dean Winchester wasn't it. The man was tall with fine features, almost pretty, and if Gabriel wasn't smart, he would've underestimated him immediately. If Castiel as his Pakhan had taught him anything it was that looks, and gender, meant nothing as far as brutality. In fact, it made people like Castiel and Dean Winchester that much more terrifying.

"Good morning." Dean held out his hand, meeting Gabriel's with a firm handshake.

"Good morning Don Winchester, I'm Gabriel Krushnic, the Sovietnik to Pakhan Castiel Krushnic. He is ready to see you now." Gabriel gestured towards the elevator. "If you gentlemen will just follow me, we have the _Zoloto Komnate_ set up for our meeting."

Once the men had boarded the elevator Gabriel pushed the bright button that lead back down to the club. Gabriel could feel Don Winchester’s eyes on him and made a point to stand straight backed, as tall as he could. The silence made Gabriel wonder why they never installed some damn elevator music and he filled the space by clicking the cherry hard candy in his mouth against his teeth as he rolled it with his tongue. He smirked when the sound caused Dean Winchester to clear his throat, obviously irritated, just before the elevator dinged their arrival.

Gabriel stepped out with the Winchester brothers and the Consigliere. The club looked so different in the light of day. No loud music, no grinding bodies; the smell of sex barely lingered. The only sound that could now be heard was the clicking of fine Italian dress shoes as they made their way past the bar and through the service doors. They walked down a long hallway that had offices and various rooms on each side before pausing in front of a door with a plaque that boasted the name of the room.

"Here we are," Gabriel motioned to the large, golden door. Dean looked over his shoulder and gave his brother a short, rigid nod. Gabriel took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

Castiel straightened in his seat as the men entered the room. Gabriel came in first, his figure blocking Castiel’s view of the man behind him, the man Castiel recognized as both Don Winchester and ‘John’ from the night before. Castiel stood and smoothed down his black suit jacket as he walked around the table.

Gabriel side-stepped and stood between the Don and Pakhan to make introductions. Castiel’s eyes narrowed in unspoken challenge. His heartbeat picked up before he quickly schooled his features to hard stone.

This Don from another Family-- albeit an allied Family, but still --knew Castiel's deepest darkest secret. He could ruin him. Castiel took a deep breath, which proved to be a horrible mistake as the delectable scent of pine and a hint of something sweet and spicy that Castiel didn't recognize overtook his senses. His head started to spin being this close to Don Winchester. It was making his blood boil and skin tingle, just like it had last night. He needed to get introductions over with quickly so he could take his seat at his end of the table and the Don at the opposite end, far away from him.

Gabriel started to make introductions starting from the lowest rank. “Pakhan, this is Robert Singer, Consigliere to Don Winchester.”

Castiel gave the older man a long look and a quick, curt nod. Bobby didn’t flinch under the young Pakhan’s glare and kept his voice neutral as he said, “Pleasure, Pakhan Krushnic, thank you for agreeing to meet with us on such short notice.”

Castiel smiled. “It seems we have a common enemy that is in much need of being taken care of.”

Castiel turned to the younger Winchester and Gabriel spoke, “Pakhan, this is Sam Winchester, Underboss to the Don.”

Castiel greeted him in the same manner he had the Consigliere. “It's an honor, Pakhan Krushnic.” Castiel gave him a small smile.

The Pakhan turned his attention to the Don and waited for his brother to make his introduction. Gabriel cleared his throat. “Pakhan Krushnic, this is Don Winchester.”

He looked up into Dean’s eyes and could see the provocation there. He knew he should, but he just couldn't offer his hand. Sharing a handshake with the Don was out of the question. The last time Dean had touched him, Castiel's body betrayed him and he could not take the risk here, not in front of his men, his Bratva. Castiel gave him the same curt nod he’d given to his brother and counselor. Dean returned the nod in kind and let a small smile curve his lips. “It truly is an honor to meet with you, Pakhan Krushnic,” Dean stated as he raised an eyebrow.

Castiel hummed and mimicked Dean’s raised eyebrow. “You too, Don Winchester.”

The two continued to stare at each other, their eyes challenging, until Gabriel cleared his throat once again. “How about we take our seats and get down to business? That's why we are here.”

Castiel strode back to his spot at the head of the table and stood behind his chair, his hands gripping the back of it, internally fighting to remain in control of his body. “We will get down to business in a moment, Don Winchester, but I have some _other_ business I need to tend to first if I may.”

Dean gave a short nod, following Gabriel as he led the three of them to their seats at the opposite end of the long table. “That's fine, Pakhan Krushnic, take care of what you need.”

Castiel turned to his Bratva, eyes scanning over each one of them. His voice was hard as he addressed the rest of the room and despite being pitched low, he knew he had everyone’s attention. “As you all know, someone has been skimming from the club for three months now. I took it upon myself to go over the books yesterday and I compared the nights we were short with the employees that were working those nights. There was only one name that was constant, and that _predatel'_ , is here in this room.”

The Bratva began to murmur amongst themselves, looking around. Castiel slammed his fists against the table, effectively silencing them. “You can _not_ begin to understand how disappointed I was to discover that this thief, this _predatel'_ , is my own flesh and blood! _Moya sem'ya!_.”

Castiel stalked around the table and all eyes were on him. He paused behind one of his Boyeviks, hearing the sharp intake of breath from the men before him that couldn’t see where he’d stopped. He smirked and then leaned forward, placing his hands on the man's shoulders. He dug his fingers into his flesh and bent down so their faces were level.

“After all that I have done for you and your family, Malachi. This? This is how you choose to repay me?”

A soft murmur went around the table, the rest of his Bratva whispering among themselves, but Castiel was focused on one man alone. The Alpha in question shook his head quickly. “I swear Pakhan, it wasn't me.”

Castiel gripped him by the chin, forcing his to meet his eyes. “You are really going to sit here and lie to me? To me!? Your Pakhan? I swear to you, Malachi Batishchev, if you do not come clean with me I will kill your wife, both your pups, and make you watch, make you watch them beg me not to!” Castiel snarled, his eyes burning with rage.

Malachi grabbed Castiel by the arm and began to plead. “No please, please, okay, it was me. I have been skimming from the club on the nights I tend bar. I'm sorry, Pakhan, it will never happen again, I swear. I promise I will pay you back every penny… with interest.”

Castiel pulled out of his grip and shook his head. “I don't want to be paid back, Malachi, at least not with money. I gave you the job because you said your family needed the extra money. Did the money you _stole_ from me at least go towards your family?”

Malachi nodded. “Yes, Pakhan. All of it, every single dime.”

Castiel hummed and stared at him with a cold gaze. “You need to be taught a lesson for your betrayal. Put both of your hands flat on the table,” Castiel leaned in, “Do you know what they did to _predateli_ in our grandfathers’ time?” Castiel pulled back and slammed a knife into the back Malachi’s right hand, pinning it to the table.

The Alpha howled. “Please, Pakhan! No, no, don't do this!”

Castiel sighed and brought another knife down into Malachi’s left hand. The man screamed, and Castiel raised his voice to talk over the wails of pain. “I asked you a question and I expect an answer. Do you know what they did to thieves back in our grandfathers’ time?”

Malachi shook his head, whimpering as his fingers twitched feebly against the wooden table. Castiel paused, the entire room staring at the blood welling from beneath the man’s palms.

“Well, let me educate you,” Castiel said slowly, reaching forward to tap one of the knives and causing Malachi’s entire hand to twitch and the man to scream again. “Their hands,” he flicked the knives again, ignoring the inhuman shrieks, “were cut off.” He pulled Malachi’s face around to look at him in the eyes. “It seems like a fair punishment fitting the crime.”

Castiel turned to look at Dean. “What do you think Don Winchester?”

“I think you should deal with your family as you see fit, Pakhan Krushnic,” Dean replied, his eyes flicking from Malachi’s hunched form to Castiel’s steely blue gaze. Castiel watched as the Don gave him a small smirk that showed he was both impressed with the way Castiel was handling the issues in the Bratva, and also challenging to see if the Omega would actually go through with punishing the man.

Castiel nodded and looked at his Sovietnik. “Gabriel, get me my saw.” Gabriel stood and walked out of the room.

“No, God, please no,” Malachi begged, snot and tears impairing his words.

Castiel backhanded him across the face and blood flew from Malachi’s lips, splattering onto his brother Inias who was seated beside him. “Stop begging, do not disgrace this family! You will die like a man, you will die with some God damned dignity!”

Gabriel walked back in and up to Castiel, giving him a speculative look before handing him the small circular saw. Castiel looked down at Malachi. “Is there anything you would like to say?”

“I'm sorry I betrayed you and the Bratva,” Malachi stated after clearing his throat and resigning himself to his fate. Castiel gave him a stiff nod and turned on the circular saw, watching the four inch silver blade spin to life.

The blade was brought down first to Malachi’s left wrist. Blood sprayed everywhere, covering part of the table, a few members of the Bratva, and it coated Castiel as he worked his way through Malachi’s wrist. Castiel's crisp white shirt was stained red, his hands and face were covered with the thick crimson fluid. He inhaled deeply, grateful for the thick, coppery scent as it drowned out the rest of the Alpha scents in the room-- Don Winchester’s included.

Malachi fought hard not to move or speak but it was obvious that the pain was becoming too much to bear as Castiel pushed down, the Pahkan’s full weight on the saw now grinding through bone. The man howled and wailed and the sickening crunch could be heard throughout the room as Castiel made it completely through the carpal bones.

Castiel drew the saw back once the hand was completely detached, the saw flinging blood from its still spinning blade. Malachi face was pale, ashen from the loss of blood or perhaps even shock. His eyes were glazed over and he looked like he was going to beg again, his mouth falling open in a silent plea, but snapped shut with one look from his Pakhan, the man he betrayed. Castiel started in on the other wrist and the entire room watched. Castiel had half a mind to be grateful that their guests had been seated at the opposite end of the table and away from the blood’s trajectory.

Once Castiel had detached the other hand from the _predateli_ body, he shut off the saw and looked down at the man he had just condemned to death. Admiring his work, he walked back around the table and took his seat, setting the saw beside him on top of the table. He looked at Malachi’s brother Inias, “Are we good?” an unspoken question in that one sentence.

The man watched as his brother slumped forward in his chair, the blood continuing to pour from his wrists and spread across the table. Those closest to him had moved their seats back so they would not be covered any more than they already had been by the traitor's tainted blood. Malachi's hands remained pinned down on the table by Castiel's knives.

Inias looked up at Castiel and nodded. “He was a dirty traitor. He got what he deserved.” He paused a moment, then repeated in a whisper, “ _Gryaznyy izmennik._ ” before he tore his eyes away from his brother.

Castiel returned the nod, pleased with the answer. “Contact your brother Josiah and tell him there is an opening for a Boyevik in the elite Bratva, tell him the job is his if he wants it.”

Gabriel rose from the table and walked to the back of the room, retrieving a towel from a cabinet. He walked up to Castiel and handed it to him before he took his own seat at the Pahkan’s side. Castiel wiped his face and hands, spreading the blood in thick streaks down his cheeks and neck. He laid the blood covered towel before him on the table and turned his gaze to Don Winchester before offering him a wide, white smile.

“Don Winchester, are you ready to get down to business?”

As soon as Castiel asked the question, a loud thump drew everyone's attention back over to Malachi. He had fallen face down on the table and Castiel smirked as he watched the blood spread across the polished wood. His brother reached over and took his pulse by pressing his fingers to the side of his throat. He shook his head. “He's dead, Pakhan.”

Castiel snapped his fingers and looked at his Bykis. “Constantine, Bartholomew, remove that filth from my sight and dispose of the body accordingly.”

They both nodded. Bartholomew threw the body over his shoulder while Constantine pulled the knives from the table and collected the hands. Constantine gave the Pakhan his knives back as he passed him and Castiel yelled at his Bykis’ retreating figures, “Have someone come in here and clean this mess!” He wiped the blood off of the knives and pocketed them before he looked at Dean once again. “Now, no more interruptions. Let's talk business.”

Dean nodded, settling back in his chair as he crossed his legs and then his hands over his knee. He cocked his head to meet Castiel’s gaze straight on and smiled. “First off, thank you for agreeing to meet with me and my associates, Pakhan Krushnic.”

Castiel laced his fingers together on the tabletop, impressed in spite of himself that Dean had taken the whole bloody show in stride. “Pleasure is mine, Don Winchester. It seems we have a common enemy.”

“The 106th Street Crew has been a pain in my ass, as of late. Bellucci’s finally retrieved his balls from his mother’s back pocket and it’s causing quite a bit of trouble for me and my crew in Boston and Rhode Island. I can only imagine what he’s doing with _my_ merchandise here in New York.”

Castiel smirked. “Well I know what he's doing with your coke. He has his _pankis_ , his punks,” he clarified at the Don’s confusion, “peddling it outside of my club. It’s becoming very problematic and bad for business.” Castiel paused and raised an eyebrow. “You know what I mean?”

Dean nodded and his eyes flickered down to Castiel’s hands before trailing back up to lock eyes with him. “I can see how that would be bad for your business, yes,” Dean agreed and then smirked. “Your club was quite entertaining last night. I think we all enjoyed ourselves.”

Castiel stiffened at the mention of last night. Was Dean _fucking_ with him? He flashed his best fake smile and replied, “I'm glad to hear it. My bar staff reported you leaving early... was everything not up to par with your standards, Don?”

“Oh, the entertainment and alcohol was prime, Pakhan. The company I met, however, left much more to be desired.”

Silence fell over the table and Castiel heard as Sam Winchester kicked the underside of his Don’s chair. Dean appeared not to have noticed, didn’t even flinch, and kept his eyes firmly glued to Castiel’s.

Castiel gritted his teeth and smirked icily at Dean. “Let's get back to business, shall we?”

“Of course,” Dean replied and eased himself back against the chair. Behind him Castiel saw both Robert Singer and Sam Winchester relax as well and he forced himself to clear his throat before continuing. It wasn’t as if he _wanted_ Dean Winchester anyways, it didn’t matter what the Alpha thought. He just needed to stay on the cocky asshole’s good side so that he wouldn’t blow Castiel’s cover.

The sooner this was over with, the better.

“Bellucci,” he continued, “has become a problem to my Bratva as well. For many years we had no problem from them, but in the past six months his family has grown and the 106th Crew has been trying to take over _my_ territory. I have lost good men, family, at the hands of Bellucci and his crew, and I don't plan to lose anymore.” Castiel stopped and leaned further back in his chair. “So, Don Winchester, what exactly can I do for you? You must have something in mind? Or you would not have requested that we meet.”

Dean shifted in his seat matching the Pakhan’s relaxed posture and slowly nodded his head. “I want information. I know most of Bellucci’s family lives right here in Brighton Beach. And I am sure you have a better understanding of him and his family than I and my associates.” Dean paused a moment and Castiel clicked his tongue softly in acknowledgement. Dean nodded, then continued, “I would appreciate the opportunity to share your docks so that I can retain at least _some_ of my merchandise. I would appreciate being able to unload here in the city and will provide my own transport for my goods back home.”

Castiel nodded slowly, mulling over the idea of sharing his dock with the Patricolo family. On one hand, it would keep Bellucci’s crew from hanging around and selling near his club-- the man he’d sent back as a warning would only last so long before they tried again. But it would also mean that the Don would have business here in New York, would mean that he could be coming here often. The thought that Dean would be here, knowing his secret, was actually quite terrifying.

“Of course,” Dean started again, and Castiel glanced up and waited, not giving away any of his thoughts. “I will still deploy some shipments to the Harbor-- Bellucci isn’t so stupid as to not notice all of my shipments coming here, but I will be making arrangements for better transportation.

“I will have three of my Capo’s and their crews relocated here in New York for the time being for protection of my product. I would not expect you to provide any additional security. I’m sure once Bellucci catches wind of you helping the Winchesters… Well,” Dean grinned slightly, flashing his trademark half smile, “he won’t take too kindly to it. Although...” Dean trailed off and looked over to the congealing blood on the table where Malachi had died. He raised an eyebrow as he looked back up and met Castiel’s steely gaze. “It does appear that you can take care of your internal affairs quite effectively. Still, they can be here to assist your Bratva move my merchandise back to Boston, and assist you in whatever way you deem necessary.”

Castiel clucked his tongue again and furrowed his brows deep in concentration. “Everything,” he looked piercingly at his ally, “you have requested seems doable, but in return for the information and the use of my docks,” Castiel steepled his hands, “I want a twenty percent cut of your profits on the firearm and drug sales.”

Dean swallowed hard, his eyes widening at the bold request. “Twenty percent?” he repeated, frozen in his spot as he stared at Castiel’s face. “I believe that’s a bit high considering you’ll have extra hands with my Capos and soldiers, don’t you Pakhan?”

Castiel shrugged and smirked at the Alpha. “Twenty percent seems reasonable to me to assure that you get your product. It’s going to be twenty percent to me or a hundred percent to Bellucci. Your choice, Don Winchester.”

Dean licked his lower lip slowly, contemplating, before he turned to look over his shoulder to meet his brother’s eyes. The younger Winchester appeared to be deep in thought-- probably crunching their numbers, Castiel realized --and he was impressed at how much stock Don Winchester placed in his right hand man, much like he himself did with Gabriel. When Sam locked eyes with Dean, it was only seconds later that Dean turned back around, stood and held out his hand.

“You have a deal, Pakhan Krushnic. How about we shake on it?”

Castiel ground his teeth and gave a short nod and stood. He took a deep breath and started walking towards Dean when his attention was drawn to the door as one of his Shestyorkas from the security group came in wide eyed and bloody.

“Pakhan!” His voice was loud, panicked, and his eyes flickered around the room, lingering on Gabriel before he focused back on Castiel. “ _Pozhaluysta izvinite menya_ , Pakhan… _Pozhaluysta izvinite menya_ ,” he gasped, begging to be forgiven for interrupting. His eyes flashed and he sucked in a sharp breath when the Pakhan made no move towards him. “The 106th has sent us a message…” he stopped talking and stopped short a foot or so from the head of the table, his eyes darting back over to Gabriel.

Castiel glared at the man that dared interrupt him during a meeting, and to just barge in here? Clearly, Castiel would have to teach him some manners later. “What the fuck is so pressing that could not wait until after my meeting with Don Winchester? It better be damn important for your sake,” he growled threateningly.

“ _Sozhaleyu, sozhaleyu,_ ” he said apologetically to the Pakhan. “They left her hanging outside, and the blood… Once we realized, we knew you had to know…. It’s… Pakhan, _Ona mertva, ona mertva._ She’s dead, Pakhan… she’s…!”

Castiel stopped advancing on the Shestyorka and glanced over at Gabriel before asking, “Who? Who is dead?”

“ _Ona mertva, ona mertva, ona mertva,_ …” the man repeated, shaking his head quickly back and forth until Castiel stepped towards him and slapped him hard across the face.

“I asked you a question! Who’s dead?”

The man met Castiel’s eyes and shook his head before he tore his gaze away and found Gabriel’s. “Kali,” he whispered, quickly blessing himself and pressing his hands together in prayer. “ _Ona mertva,_ Pakhan.”

Gabriel stood quickly, his chair crashing to the ground as he strode over to the Shestyorka. He gripped his shoulders shaking him. “ _Izhets!_ ” Gabriel spat, “You’re lying! No, no, not her! It can't be her!”

Castiel pulled his brother off the Shestyorka and glanced around the room at his men. “I want you all out there now, figure out what the fuck is going on.”

The Bratva remained seated in shock at the news.

“Now! That’s an order from your Pakhan!”

They quickly snapped out of it, nodded and disbursed.

Gabriel tried to pull out from his grip but Castiel held his arms tighter. “Let me go, Castiel! I’m going with them! She was my wife! My beautiful _zhena_. Brother, you can't deny me my revenge.”

Castiel shook his head. “I’m not denying you anything, I’m just not going to let you go out there halfcocked and get yourself killed!”

“She was pregnant,” Gabriel whispered. “They took my wife, Castiel! My _zhena_ and my child! My child! I will kill the men who did this, I will rip their fuckin’ hearts out while they’re still breathing!”

Castiel growled, “We will kill them and their families for taking yours from you.” Castiel sighed and let go of his brother who was barely holding it together. “ _Im tak zhal’ brat_ , I am so sorry.” He grabbed Gabriel and pulled him into his chest before whispering in his ear, “I need you to go to my office and under no circumstances are you to go off on your own.” Castiel pulled back, placing his hands on Gabriel’s face and forced him to meet his eyes. “Do you understand me? This is not a request from your brother but an order from your Pakhan.”

Castiel pinched the bridge of his nose as he watched his brother stagger from the room, only then did he realize the Winchesters were still there. “Meeting’s over. Go back to your rooms and you will be contacted soon about the arrangement we have made here today.”

Dean nodded quickly and the three of them headed to the door. Dean stopped, waving his brother and Consigliere off as he moved towards Castiel. “I apologize for your loss… and your brother’s.”

Castiel nodded. “Thank you, Don Winchester, I promise to be in contact.”

“I have no doubt.” Dean nodded and stood, waiting. “Listen,” he said finally, breaking the silence once more. “About… last night?”

Castiel bared his teeth and growled. “I said this meeting was over, Don Winchester. I suggest you get the fuck out.”

Dean raised an eyebrow and shook his head slowly. “Well, I can already tell this is the start of a wonderful partnership, Pakhan. If not wonderful, at least… interesting.”

Dean leaned forward, catching Castiel off guard as he scented him quickly. With one last look, Dean turned on his heel and headed towards the elevator where Singer and his brother were waiting for him.

“Fuck!” Castiel yelled to the now empty room before taking a few calming breaths and heading up to his office. It was Gabriel who needed him now.


	3. Family Matters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Russian Glossary Chapter Two**  
>  _Brat_ \- Brother  
>  _Chernaya Komnata_ \- Black Room  
>  _Malen'kiy Angel_ \- Little Angel  
>  _Mladshiy Brat_ \- Little Brother  
>  _Moi Brat'ya_ \- My Brothers  
>  _Moy Brat_ \- My Brother  
>  _Nebesnyy Lyuks_ \- Heavenly Suite  
>  _Oko Za Oko_ \- Eye for an Eye  
>  _Paisan_ \- Country Men  
>  _Prisoski Petukhs_ \- Cock Suckers  
>  _Sem’ya_ \- Family  
>  _Zolotoy Komnate_ \- GoldRoom

  
  
  
**_“The only one that can do what I do is me. A lot of people had to die for me to be me. You wanna me be?” - Frank Costello_ **

 

 

 

**Nebesnyy Lyuks | Brightwater Avenue |** **Brighton Beach, New York**

 

“Well, that went well,” Sam commented as Bobby opened the door to Dean’s suite and the three of them filed in. Sam went immediately over to the bar and poured himself a scotch. Dean watched him for a moment before following after him and getting his own drink.

“Bobby?” his voice lifted in question as he held up a third glass.

“Naw,” Bobby answered, instead taking his place on a large recliner chair in the center of the large living area. “I’m sure we will be frequenting the club again, knowing you two idjits.”

Dean nodded slowly and sipped his drink as he walked to the leather couch and sank down on one end. Sam followed suit and the three sat together in silence, reflecting on the meeting with the Bratva.

“So… we’re staying one more night?” Sam broke the silence and the pair turned their attention to Dean.

“One more, maybe two,” Dean nodded, finishing off his drink. “I want you to find housing for our Capos and crew… I’m sure Pakhan Krushnic will not want to house thirty-three people here in his hotel.” Dean turned and looked at Bobby. “I would’ve suggested finding Gabriel, but I don’t think that would be wise right now.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Bobby assured him and then leaned forward in the chair. “Which Capos are we sending?”

“I’m thinking Gordon, Cole, and Rufus. I want Benny to stay at home and I trust Rufus to get the right information.”

Bobby nodded, thinking, and then pushed out of the chair. “I’ll see what I can do for housing arrangements. Would be easier if we had some sort of a damn timeline…”

“Yeah, well, hopefully short. I don’t want to be handing over twenty percent for very long, Bobby.” Dean sighed and Sam nodded his agreement as Bobby took his leave. Beside him, Sam was meticulously swirling the remaining sip of scotch in his glass and Dean exhaled slowly. “Hey, Sammy?”

“Hmmm?” Sam replied, tipping the glass back and emptying it before looking over at his brother.

“Did you happen to scent oranges in the meeting?”

Sam stared at him for a second, confused, and shook his head. “You mean like, someone was eating oranges? Dude, all I smelled was that freaking blood for the entire meeting. I think I can still smell it…”

“No, no, not the fruit…. Like, orange blossoms. Omega scent.” Dean waited, watching Sam’s face carefully for any sort of recognition.

“No… I think the guy next to me had about four different Omega scents left over on his skin… but nothing citrusy. Why?”

“No reason.” Dean shook his head and crossed his legs, leaning onto the arm of the couch. “Those Krushnics sure smell… sprucy, don’t they?”

“Dude.” Sam rolled his eyes and stood, taking his and Dean’s glass with him. “Stop with the scenting. It’s fucking weird.”

“Right.” Dean nodded and watched as his brother put the glasses away and stretched. “How about you let Rufus know about the plans, tell him to let Gordon and Cole know. I’ll check in with Benny and see about the damage on the newest shipment.”

Sam nodded and was pulling out his phone as he headed for the door. Dean sat there for another minute and looked down at his hands folded across his lap. There were a few stray drops of blood dried onto the back of his hand and he ran his thumb over one of them as he remembered how Castiel looked with blood streaked down his face.

Dean wasn’t sure what game the Krushnics were playing, having an Omega posing as an Alpha and as the Pakhan of the Bratva… He didn’t know why he was the only one who seemed to be able to scent Castiel for the gender he truly is, but he couldn’t deny that the Omega got shit done and looked fucking hot while he did it. As the blood flaked from his skin he wondered briefly what it would’ve been like to lick the blood from Castiel’s skin, copper and salt flooding his senses…

“Dangerous territory, Winchester,” Dean snapped himself from his thoughts and shifted to pull out his phone. He scrolled through his contacts until he found **Benny Lafitte**. He pressed the contact as he reminded himself, “Stick to business.”

 

 

 

**Castiel’s Office | Brightwater Avenue | Brighton Beach, New York**

 

Castiel found his brother already halfway through a bottle of Stolichnaya Elit, slumped forward on the desk, head on top of his crossed arms and the vodka spilling onto the floor. He sat down across from Gabriel and reached over, taking the bottle carefully from his brother’s hands and taking a large swig for himself. He had never seen his big brother look this broken, so lost. He had always been there for Castiel growing up, he had always been so strong that Castiel had almost forgotten he was human too. But in this moment, seeing his brother so devastated was a rude awakening. “Gabriel--”

Gabriel lifted his head and shook it, his eyes bloodshot and glassy, cheeks tear streaked. He licked his lips slowly, swallowing hard before he spoke. “Don’t. Just don't apologize again. Tell me we will kill these fuckers instead.”

Castiel clenched his jaw, his stomach twisting as he watched a multitude of emotions that he couldn’t himself comprehend, cross his brother’s face. “I swear to you Gabriel, we will find every single person involved and we will take them and their whole family out for what they have done to you.”

Gabriel took the bottle back from his brother and chugged a fair amount. “I was going to be a father, Castiel. You know how much I have always wanted to be a dad.”

Castiel nodded, not knowing what to say to soothe his brother. Omega’s were supposed to be caregivers and know how to handle situations like this, but not Castiel. He wasn't raised as an Omega. The best he could do was promise his brother revenge.

They sat in silence, passing the bottle back and forth until a soft knock at the door drew them both out of their thoughts. “Come in,” Gabriel slurred.

Their brother Balthazar entered, looking solemn. “Gabriel, I’m so sorry.”

Gabriel tossed the bottle across the room, shattering it against the door. “Don’t fuckin’ apologize to me! Just tell me you know why - why they did this to her.”

Balthazar nodded and Castiel sat straight up in his seat. “I do know the message that was written...” Balthazar paused and took a deep breath. “It was written in blood on the walls of your apartment. It said ‘ _Work with the Winchesters, more will die_.’ Castiel,” he turned to his Pakhan, “do you think--”

Castiel growled, “No one tells me who I can do business with, least of all Bellucci! He will pay for this and we need the Winchesters on our side to ensure this.” Castiel looked back at Gabriel whose head was laying on the desk and he was snoring lightly.

Castiel turned back to Balthazar. “You take him home with you. Do not let him out of your sight and do not let him go to his apartment.” He stood and smoothed down his sleeves. “Call the cleaners. Have them come in and take care of the mess. Get the Boyeviks on to finding out who did this. I want their names… everyone that was involved.”

Balthazar nodded. “Yes, Pakhan.” He rounded the table to help Gabriel up.

“I will be here in my office or at the bar, contact me if you hear anything or if he,” Castiel pointed at Gabriel, “needs me.”

Balthazar hefted Gabriel up, supporting his brother beneath his arm. “I will.”

“Take care of him, Balthazar.”

“You know I will, Castiel. And when we find out who did this?” He hitched Gabriel higher and got his brother’s dead weight settled against his left side. “It will not be the Boyeviks who take care of this. It will be the Krushnic brothers.”

Castiel nodded. “You are right, _brat_ , I agree.” He followed his brothers through the club and to the service elevator, helping to get Gabriel loaded into Balthazar’s car once they got to the staff garage, before going back to his office.

Castiel sat at his desk thinking about the events of the day. It had been a shitstorm. He found out the Alpha from last night was none other than Don Winchester, he’d had to take care of Malachi, and now this? Kali had been a great woman, perfect for his brother, and to find out he would have been an Uncle... it hurt.

He closed his eyes and pictured the expression on his brother’s face once more, knowing that would haunt him for far longer than it would take to get the revenge Gabriel deserved. Castiel would never have a mate, would never know the joy he watched his brother experience over the last eight years, and he felt guilty for being slightly grateful he would never have to experience this. A loss so gut wrenching it was destroying his brother from the inside out.

He trusted his Bratva to get the names, and soon, and knew that when they did every single one of those men would watch their own families die before they met a bloody end themselves. But for Gabriel...

Castiel sighed. God, he needed a drink. He looked down at his watch; it was still two hours before the bar opened and although he knew he could get someone in early to get him a drink, he much preferred to be alone. Castiel opened the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out another bottle of Stolichnaya Elit.

 

 

 

**Nebesnyy Lyuks | Brightwater Avenue |** **Brighton Beach, New York**

 

“What?” Dean called out, lifting his head from where it had been beneath a large, feather down pillow. He’d stayed in some nice places before, it came with the perks of the job after all, but these Russians knew how to set up a bedroom. He was sprawled naked across the large king sized bed, the pillow blocking out the morning sunlight that was now pouring through the large bay windows and warming his skin.

“Hey, I got in touch with-- Dean! What the fuck!” The door slammed shut and Dean snorted a laugh as he rolled over onto his back and looked towards the door. “You could’ve told me you were naked!” Sam called from the other side of the door. Dean didn’t need to see his brother to picture the expression on his face.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m covered.” Dean smirked and waited for Sam to open the door once more.

“You’re an asshole!” With the second slam of the door Dean chuckled to himself and slid off of the bed, the satin sheets definitely something he would have to get for his own bed back home. He padded across the plush carpeted floor to the Heavenly Suite’s bathroom -- complete with a tub that Dean was sure he could fit more than six adults in-- and pulled on a dark blue bathrobe.

When he exited the bedroom, Sam was waiting for him in the living area with his arms crossed.

“You’re a jerk.”

“And you’re a bitch,” Dean replied with a smile as he threw himself onto the couch across from his brother. Sam’s expression didn’t change and Dean rolled his eyes. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry you’re jealous that I’m packing way more heat than you could ever hope to have.”

A pillow slammed into the side of his head for his trouble.

“Will you two idjits cut the crap?” Bobby’s voice was stern, instantly reminding Dean of his late father, and he dropped the pillow he was about to launch back across the room to his side.

“Here.” Bobby shoved a warm cup of coffee into his hands. Dean nodded gratefully at the older man as he took a long sip.

“Thank you, Bobby,” Sam said, accepting a cup of coffee for himself and crossing his legs as he relaxed back into the chair.

“If you two are done acting like children, we can finish up the business we came here to do and then you two can go off an’ do whatever you damn well please.” Bobby looked at both of them, but there was a slight smile at the corner of his lips.

“Alright, alright.” Dean rolled his eyes and smirked at Sam over the rim of his coffee cup as he took another sip. “Go ahead, Sammy. What do you got for me?”

“Well,” Sam started, still glaring at his brother, “Rufus seemed pretty accepting of the idea. He asked how long they had to get their soldiers ready, asked for a timeline for the families and such, and I told him to tell them at least a few months. I told him to be here within the week, figured that would be enough time?”

Dean nodded and Bobby grunted his agreement.

Sam continued, “So that went through okay. As I went to see how Bobby was doing on the housing, I got a phone call from Gordon…” Sam trailed off and shook his head. “Gordon seemed to forget his place for a moment. Thought that maybe Rufus had misheard something because, surely, he wasn’t being sent to ‘fucking New York for bitch work’.”

“Did you remind him of his place?” Dean asked, setting his mug down on the coffee table and leaning forward. He could feel his temperature starting to rise. Gordon Walker was a Capo that had advanced from Soldier in John’s time as Boss of the Patricolo Crime Family. Since Dean had taken over, and more specifically since Sam became the Underboss, Gordon had found himself needing to be reminded of his place more often than Dean liked.

“Of course I did,” Sam replied. “I reminded him that he could very easily stay back home in Boston and find himself shelved. Chuck Shurley has been doing a fine job and might like the promotion to street Capo.”

“I’m sure he liked hearin’ that,” Bobby snorted and Sam threw him a small smile.

“Oh, of course he did,” Sam agreed, relaxing further into the chair. He rolled his eyes, irritation at the situation plain on his face. “Shut his mouth pretty damn quick and asked how long he had to get his wife and kid situated before he came out.”

“This is the last straw for him,” Dean warned, reaching for his coffee again and meeting his brother’s eyes. “I’m sick of the challenge to your authority, to mine. I don’t give a fuck what he thinks! If I tell him he’s coming to New York? He’s coming to New York. If I tell him he’s going to be scouting information? He damn well better be getting me some information!” Dean scowled into his cup, not finding himself thirsty at all and slammed it back on the table. Bobby and Sam stayed silent, nodding their agreement as they waited for Dean to take a deep breath. Dean licked his lower lip, then said, “I want Adam moved into his crew.”

“Why Adam?” Sam asked, shaking his head.

“Because Adam is family, and he’s blood,” Dean answered, then leaned forward. “And because I said so. I want family with Gordon. Garth is good, and so is Chuck, but I want Adam to be my ears.”

“Gordon is just on a power trip. He’s a Beta with an Alpha hard-on. He thinks he’s some big shit and he wants everyone else to think he’s that too. He’s harmless, Dean.” Sam shrugged off Dean’s concerns but pulled out his phone. “Might be good to keep Ben Braden back in Boston anyway… I’m sure you’d hear from his mother.”

“This is why we shouldn’t accept children,” Dean groaned, running a hand down his face as he thought of what Lisa Braden would say. It was only due to obligation that they’d accepted the late James Braden’s son into the family. Beside him, Bobby let out a small laugh.

“Braden is as old as you were when your Daddy had you out on the streets.”

“Yeah, well, Braden hadn’t even seen a gun in person until he was twenty-four so…”

“Can’t all be as lucky as you two,” Bobby answered and shrugged when Dean rolled his head to look at him. He cleared his throat and tried to hide his smirk from Dean. “Alright, so I got some housing in Brighton and some in Brooklyn. I figured Cole could take the housing with his crew in Brooklyn. Figured you’d want Rufus near Gordon anyhow.”

Dean nodded his head in agreement.

“Now, I’m sure the 106th won’t take too kindly to us moving in…” Bobby continued after a short pause, “On my way up, I found out the reason Gabriel Krushnic’s wife was killed…”

Dean met Bobby’s eyes and knew without him saying it what that reason was. “They weren’t too happy about the Bratva meeting with us… I’m sure the Pakhan didn’t take kindly to being threatened.”

“Oh, I’ve no doubt he’ll be utilizing our soldiers for more intel than just how our shipments are being intercepted,” Bobby answered back and across from them, Sam nodded silently.

They sat in silence, finishing their coffee and lost in thought. Although Dean had seen the initial reaction to Gabriel Krushnic finding out about his wife’s murder, he couldn’t imagine what the man was feeling now. To lose a mate… It destroyed his father, got him sent into an early grave once he gained his revenge. Dean definitely didn’t envy him.

“So are we free?” Sam broke the silence, draining his coffee as he got up from the chair and brought his mug into the kitchen. “Because I would really like to go for a run and do some research on the 106th… Tonight I would like to see if that Omega I was dancing with the other night will be back. Am I allowed to enjoy myself this evening, Don Winchester?”

Dean chucked the pillow over his head in the direction of the kitchen and heard his brother swear as the mug he’d carried crashed to the floor. “They’re going to charge you for that!” Sam yelled, stepping around the broken ceramic.

“Go, drink too much, get laid by the death-woman.” Dean smirked at the glare thrown in his direction. “Or even better, find someone who doesn’t smell like crap!”

“Like your orange scent? I’ll save the fruity Omegas for you.” It was Dean’s turn to glare as his brother left the suite to make it back to his own room. Bobby stood next, muttering under his breath about the two of them. Dean waited until the main doors closed and then stripped down and crawled back onto the oversized bed.

It had been a long road for him and Sam to get into the positions they were in, despite their father being one of the greatest Bosses the Patricolo Family had ever had. No matter where they went, even outside of Boston where they did most of their public business, people knew who they were. People were involved in their lives. For Castiel Krushnic to have kept his true gender a secret… Dean just didn’t know how he did it.

It took balls, that was for sure. Their families were similar enough that Dean knew if anyone found out Castiel was an Omega, the man wouldn’t live another day. His family would not only be angry at being lied to, betrayed and fooled, they would be murderous. Dean himself was no stranger to walking a fine line of life and death, but getting up every day and facing the people that could very possibly hold your life in your hands? Castiel was brave.

Everything Dean knew about Omegas would never lead him to assume they would even be comfortable in the type of position he and Castiel held. They had a drive for a family, comfort and safety from their Alpha or Beta. Watching Castiel today as he brutally served his sentence over the thief in the Bratva, he never would’ve believed he was an Omega if he hadn’t been able to smell the sweet, orange blossom scent over the coppery tinge of blood.

Dean let his eyes fall closed and he played that scene out in his head again. In the brightly lit golden room, Dean swore he could see every drop of blood that fell against Castiel’s olive-toned skin. There was one, stubborn drop that had fallen onto his bottom lip and Dean was transfixed. Now, in his solitude, Dean let his tongue dart out to trace his own lip, and he fell asleep wondering if Castiel would taste like citrus, too.

Dean woke up to the sound of knocking and a soft, “Food service!” being called through the suite. He waited a minute, sure the delivery woman was gone, and then walked out into the kitchen naked. He smiled when he saw Bobby had ordered him a Texas sized burger complete with onion straws both inside and on the side of the burger.

“Thank you, Bobby!” Dean said aloud around a bite of the burger as he slid into a stool at the kitchen island. A quick glance at the clock told him he’d slept most of the day, skipping both breakfast-- save the coffee Bobby had gotten him that morning --and lunch. Starving, he ate his food quickly, licking burger juice and ketchup from his fingers before sliding the plate away.

He wondered if Sam was already down in the club, trying to pick up Ms. Posey or not, and decided that it would be good to see if he could pick up someone of his own. He made his way to the shower, washing himself quickly, and then pulled on a pair of dark jeans and a black Henley, glad that it was only Sam and Bobby who would see him this dressed down. He paused at the door, wondering what the Bratva would think of seeing the Patricolo’s Boss wearing jeans, but decided he didn’t care.

Like the first night they were there, the club was busy -- packed and crowded. But tonight, it was hot, and Dean found the mingling scents of arousal and alcohol almost nauseating. He paused at one of the stages, half watching the show that a small, young Omega was putting on with the use of a pole, before he moved on.

He could see Sam dancing in the center of the floor and smirked when he realized that neither of the pretty Omega’s grinding on him were the posey girl from the first night. He looked around and found himself scanning the bar, his eyes falling on the same two seats he and Castiel had sat in to share their drinks. He let his eyes trail over the people at the bar, wondering why the hell he was so interested in seeing the Pakhan again when the man had made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with Dean --especially now.

At the far end of the club Dean saw the large door he’d gone through the morning before with Gabriel, and recognized two of the Bratva’s men who had disposed of the traitor’s body standing guard. Dean waited a beat and before he knew it he was striding over to them.

He watched as both men stiffened at his approach, the one on the left moving his hand to his back where Dean had no doubt his gun was secured. They paused as they took him in, recognizing him though only relaxing slightly.

“Don Winchester,” one of them spoke, giving him the once over. “How may we help you?”

“Evening. I just came down to see the Pakhan.” Dean smiled at them and took another step forward only to be stopped by a firm hand.

“I’m sorry, Don Winchester. We cannot let you in without an invitation.”

“Oh, M-Michael didn’t tell you?” Dean asked, cocking his head and hoping to God he’d got one of the brother’s names right. When the two men exchanged a glance, clearly confused, Dean pressed on. “Yeah, Michael informed my Consigliere Bobby that the Pakhan requested my presence in a private meeting about the attack on Mrs. Krushnic yesterday.”

Dean held his breath and waited.

“Oh, Michael did not inform us of his meeting…” The man to the left shifted his weight, ready to move out of Dean’s way but was stopped by the other.

“We can get the Pakhan for you,” he said, still staring at Dean.

“Oh, sure. I mean, I’m sure he wants to speak about personal family business out here in the club where anyone can listen to us.” Dean shrugged. “I’m sure he’ll also be extremely impressed that I’m late because I was stopped at the door.” The pair of the guards shifted uncomfortably, and Dean forced himself not to raise an eyebrow at them. If these were his men, he would’ve expected them to stand strong, stand their ground. As it were… “It’s not like he's trying to comfort his brother in his time of need or anything. I know that if roles were reversed?” Dean’s voice was as hard as steel, “I would have an extremely short temper right now…”

_Hook, line, and sinker…_

“It’s the last door on the right,” the first man offered, pulling out of his partner’s grasp and opening the door for him. “Our pardons, Don Winchester. The Pakhan is waiting for you.”

“Thank you,” Dean smiled at them both as he slipped through the door into the brightly lit hallway. He passed the _Zolotoy Komnate_ from their meeting that morning and three doors that he assumed were offices until he came to the last door on the right as he’d been directed. The door was closed and no light came from the bottom crack of the door, but Dean was sure if the Pakhan wasn’t in his office, the bodyguards at the door would’ve told him so.

Dean stood before the door and raised his hand, giving three hard raps to the door. He waited, half wondering what the hell he was going to say if Castiel _did_ open the door and half wondering what he would say when he had to walk back to the club because the room was really empty, revealing that he lied.

He was spared thinking of either response when the door was wrenched open and the smell of vodka and vomit, muddled with orange blossoms, old blood and body sweat hit him full on. Castiel was pressed against the door, the heavy wood seemingly the only thing holding him in place, and Dean’s eyes widened as he realized the Omega was still wearing the blood soaked clothes he had on when he left their meeting, though the tie was half loose and askew along with half the buttons of his white shirt missing.

“Uh,” was the only thing Dean could come up with. _Smooth, Winchester_. “Are… you okay?”

Castiel pulled his head up, the movement slow and jerky. His hair was pulled in all different directions, his skin ashen, and Dean almost wondered if making the man answer a question would result in him emptying the contents of his stomach instead.

“Do I fuckin’ look okay to you?” Castiel slurred.

Dean opened his mouth but snapped it shut, not knowing what to say. He waited a second and then took a step forward. “Come on,” he said as he reached for the light switch, flooding the large office with light. Castiel hissed, nearly falling over as he flinched and threw an arm up to cover his eyes. “Let’s get you over onto the couch. You look like you’re about to fall down.”

Castiel snorted, “Wouldn’t be the first time today.” He paused and added in as an afterthought, “And probably not the last.”

“Jesus Christ, Cas.” Dean reached for the man as he pushed off the door and plummeted towards the carpet. Dean got himself underneath his shoulders and kicked the door closed behind them, half dragging the Omega over to the couch and depositing him there before going back to lock the office door. “How much did you drink? It smells like a goddamn distillery in here…”

Castiel hummed, his eyes closed and relaxed as he settled against the couch cushions. “The equivalent of a liquor store… A very expensive liquor store.” Castiel furrowed his brows. “And what did you just call me?”

Dean looked around the room and saw the small trashcan beside the large desk in the center of the room was overflowing with glass bottles. He shook his head and then looked over at Castiel, suddenly feeling oddly shy when the man’s gaze seemed to clear and he stared straight into Dean’s eyes. “Um… Cas? I don’t know. Just… came out.”

Castiel clicked his tongue and shook his head, the movement seeming to make him dizzy as he raised a hand to hold his forehead. “Hmmm, I don't like it, never call me that again or I might have to shoot you.”

“Your brothers never called you Cas? Are you Russians always so formal?” Dean gave a slight chuckle but morphed it into a cough when he caught Castiel’s expression through his spread fingers. “Right, well… I think you need to drink something that isn’t alcohol. Do you have any water in that fridge of yours?”

Castiel pointed to the half empty bottle of vodka on his desk. “I would much rather have the rest of that.” He looked at Dean and smirked. “It's Russian water.”

“Yeah, well, welcome to New York.” Dean pushed off of the couch, ignoring the pout that crossed Castiel’s face and went to the fridge at the corner of the room. He pulled it open and saw it was fully stocked with different types of beer, soft drinks, and water. He grabbed a bottle of Fiji and cracked the top before walking it back over to Castiel. “Here, drink.”

Castiel accepted the water and took a large gulp, most of the water slipping out of the side of his mouth and onto his shirt, before setting it on the small side table beside the couch. Dean watched as Castiel ran his fingers back through his hair and took a deep breath.

He chuckled quietly as Castiel wrinkled his nose and looked down, taking in his wrecked appearance. Castiel slipped off his suit jacket and started to unbutton the remaining buttons on his dress shirt, and Dean had to bite back a laugh as Castiel growled when they wouldn't cooperate. His eyes widened as Castiel fisted the sides of the shirt and ripped it open.

“That should not have been that hot,” Dean muttered under his breath and sank back down on the couch beside Castiel to watch him struggle with the rest of his clothes. Louder, Dean asked, “So is that how you lost half your buttons in the first place?”

Dean was amused at Castiel’s scowl as the Omega removed his ripped shirt from his arms and balled it up before tossing it on the floor, leaving the tie loosely hanging against his bare chest. Dean watched as Castiel looked down at it before reaching up, his deft fingers trying to work it the rest of the way off. Castiel huffed and lay back against the couch after a few minutes of trying and failing. He turned his head to the side and looked at Dean. “Could be? I don't exactly remember. Come to think about it, I don't exactly remember much about the last 24 hours. I’ve been rather intoxicated the entire time.”

Dean gave him a soft smile and shifted over on the seat. He felt Castiel stiffen slightly as their eyes met and Dean reached up and undid the knot on Castiel’s blue silk tie, his fingers brushing against the Omega’s neck and causing them both to shiver. Dean cleared his throat as he tugged one side of the tie and it slipped from Castiel’s body into his hands.

Even completely intoxicated, dried blood flaking from his stomach and chest, the Omega was attractive. Getting him fully clothed was pretty much the first thing on Dean’s mind, surprisingly. As much as he wanted to get Castiel unclothed, had since their night at the bar, he didn’t want to take advantage and he definitely wanted them both at top form.

Not that it would ever happen.

“Do, um, you have anything in here to change into?” Dean asked, staring down at the tie so he didn’t have to look at Castiel’s face any longer.

Castiel slowly nodded and pointed to his desk. “My gym bag is over there. I think I have something I can wear in it.”

Dean nodded and pushed himself off the couch and away from the half-naked man. He walked over to the desk and found the black and grey gym bag shoved underneath it. A pair of jeans and worn-out t-shirt were on top so he grabbed them and was hit with the warm scent of spice -- Nutmeg? Cloves? -- and fresh oranges. He had to force himself not to smell Castiel’s clothes and instead stood and turned to see Castiel had not only managed to stand up but had stripped the rest of his clothes off as well.

“Jesus Christ, Cas!” Dean tossed the clothing at him quickly, turning back around as he heard the clothes hit the floor in front of Castiel. “Could you warn a guy before you get butt ass naked?”

Castiel laughed and Dean heard movement behind him, he assumed Castiel was picking up his clothes from the floor. “It’s not like you haven't seen a dick before… And what did I say about calling me Cas?”

“Yeah, well, when you can stand on your own without the room spinning? Then I’ll worry about you trying to shoot me.” Dean paused for another minute, listening to the rustling of clothing as Castiel struggled into the jeans and shirt, before he turned around. Every time he’d seen the Omega, Castiel had been dressed up, suit and tie, and Dean didn’t know which look he liked more.

Dean hadn’t realized he was staring until Castiel snorted and fell back onto the couch with a heavy ‘plop’. Dean felt his cheeks redden and he wondered what the hell was wrong with him to get embarrassed about being caught staring.

Castiel sighed and sat up, placing his elbows on his knees as he looked over at the Alpha. “I don't get it, why are you being so nice to me, Dean?” Castiel’s head lolled to the side once more and he blinked, his expression owlish, as he stared up at Dean. “You could ruin me if you wanted. You not only took my deal of twenty percent in the meeting yesterday but also offered up some of your own men.”

Dean nodded, sinking down into a crouch so Castiel’s head wasn’t tipped back to meet his eyes anymore. The Omega’s head fell forward, and his eyes rolled as a wave of dizziness hit him. He cleared his throat and it was actually kind of cute. Dean bit back the smirk at that thought. If Castiel threatened to shoot him for a simple nickname, he definitely would’ve gone for a gun at being referred to as cute.

“We both know you didn't have to do that,” Castiel continued, squinting once more before his eyes blew open wide. “And all after I let you down and wouldn’t actually go sleep with you!” Castiel’s head lolled to the side again and Dean saw him squint. He assumed it was to help Castiel’s eyes focus in his drunken state. Dean raised an eyebrow as a look of confusion crossed Castiel’s face. “And why are you here now?”

“I think that most of this conversation should probably not happen while you’re shit faced.” Dean gave him a small smile and reached for the bottle of opened water, pressing it back into Castiel’s hands and waiting for the man to start drinking again.

They were silent for a moment and Dean found himself saying, “So… how did an Omega become the Pakhan of the Bratva?” _Well, Winchester, just throw that question right out there…_

“Well,” Dean watched the look of contemplation cross Castiel’s face before he answered. “No one knows I'm an Omega, except for Gabriel. That's why I said you could ruin me. My own family doesn't know my true nature.” Dean’s eyes widened slightly. He hadn’t expected _anyone_ to know Castiel’s secret. “Before I presented my father took me to our family Doctor because I had been feeling ill and he ran tests, they came back that I would not be presenting as Alpha, but as Omega.” He gave a rough snort and Dean could sense the underlying pain. “A male Omega born to a Pakhan is a disgrace, but I’d proven myself to my father and he loved me regardless.”

Castiel broke off, silent with a soft smile on his lips. Dean understood that look perfectly… knowing that somehow, through all the bullshit, he’d somehow made his father proud. It was worth everything. Dean nodded his understanding and Castiel blinked, tearing his eyes away from Dean to look down at his feet.

“He put me on suppressants and blockers,” Castiel continued, speaking to the ground, “that very day and I have been on them ever since. I was raised an Alpha, that's all I know, and what the rest of my family believe. And as for how I became Pakhan? I'm sure you have heard the story.”

Dean blew out slowly before swallowing hard as he looked up and met Castiel’s eyes. Dean was attracted to Castiel, that much he knew, but he hardly _knew_ the Omega, owed the man nothing. And yet… “I won’t tell, you know. Your secret is safe with me.”

Castiel tapped his finger on his knee. “So orange blossoms, huh?” he asked barely above a whisper.

Dean gave him a small smile and nodded his head. “Yeah, orange blossoms.” He paused and then added, “Pretty delicious orange blossoms, actually.”

Castiel huffed a small laugh. “I never knew, you know. That's why I was so confused when you approached me in the bar, ‘John’.”

Dean shrugged, looking sheepish. “It’s not always easy to be Don Winchester, you know?”

“Mmhmm,” Castiel nodded slowly. “Oh, I know.”

Dean tracked Castiel’s clumsy movements as the Omega leaned over and he assumed Castiel’s head was still spinning from all the vodka he had consumed, God knows his would be.

Castiel buried his nose in Dean’s throat and groaned. “You smell _amazing_ Dean, like pine.” Castiel inhaled deep again and Dean felt him smile against his throat. “Spicy pine. I like it way better than the spruce scent of my family. It's overpowering, even nauseating at times. Which is just great seeing as how I have to wear that fake Alpha spruce cologne every damn day.” Castiel licked a stripe up Dean's throat and whispered in his ear, “But you, you smell perfect.”

“Cas-” Dean stuttered, swallowing hard, “-tiel.” Dean let his hand settle against the center of Castiel’s chest, moving to push him back, but the Omega was quick, his hands coming up to grip tightly onto Dean’s arm and pull himself even closer. Dean opened his mouth to tell him to move back, to ask him to come closer, he wasn’t really sure, but Castiel silenced every thought Dean had the moment he swung his leg over Dean’s lap and straddled him.

Castiel started gently rocking in the Alpha’s lap. Dean's hands moved down to grip Castiel’s hips to stop the movement but instead he just held them and watched, stunned, as Castiel let his head fall back and a soft moan escaped his lips. Dean couldn’t move as Castiel leaned down and wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck and whispered in his ear as he continued the slow gyration of his hips, “Tell me Dean... how does it feel to fuck an Omega? How does it feel to knot them?”

“Cas…” Dean whispered, letting his eyes fall closed, his fingers tightening on Castiel’s hip bones as he fought with himself. He should push him off, knew he was strong enough to physically lift the Omega and put him back on his own side of the couch, but…

“Do they love that thick Alpha knot, do they love being tied and pumped full of come? Hmm… Come on Dean, tell me. I want to know what it's like. I've never-” Castiel trailed off and Dean felt himself hardening in his jeans. He could feel the heat from Castiel’s body, could smell his arousal, his slick permeating the air around them.

Dean groaned, letting his head fall forward to press against Castiel’s chest and he clung to him as if his life depended on it, before pushing to his feet. Castiel let out a surprised sound, nearly tumbling off Dean’s lap as Dean steadied him and took a step back.

“No, Cas… I-- We can’t do this. Not this way.”

As much as Dean wanted the Omega, and he _really_ wanted him, he couldn’t take advantage. He wouldn’t let Castiel’s first time be a drunk fuck in his office, something he would most likely not remember tomorrow. He deserved better.

Castiel’s eyes turned stormy. “Really? You wanted me in the bar! I _know_ you want me now. So tell me what's the problem?”

“Castiel… you’re drunk. You… you don’t know what you want, not really.” Dean shook his head slowly, wincing at the expression on the Omega’s face. “You’ve never been intimate with anyone before, Cas… You don’t want that with me, in your office… not while you’re shit-faced-”

“Do not presume to know what _I_ want, Don Winchester,” Castiel growled and pointed to the door. “Our business is officially over, you need to leave! And not just my office. You and your associates need to go back to Boston… tonight.”

“Cas… I’m sorry, I am. But you’ll thank me for this later…” Dean ducked as Castiel reached for the opened water and chucked it across the room at Dean, water splashing against the wall and pooling on the carpet when the bottle came to rest on the floor. Giving Castiel one last sheepish look, Dean let himself out through the door, shutting it softly behind him.

 

 

 

**Krushnic Family Home | Peninsula Way | Lake Placid, New York**

Castiel pulled up in front of their family home and got out of his car, heading towards the left most path to the back of the property where the Krushnic graveyard was located. It had been a week now since Kali’s death and Gabriel hadn’t traveled back to the city since her funeral. As Castiel walked down the gravel paths, he could see Gabriel sitting cross-legged at the end of Kali’s grave, the dirt just starting to sprout new grass. Castiel took his time approaching his brother, watching as Gabriel pushed up to his knees and rubbed the cold, black marble headstone, tracing each letter of Kali’s name and the _Malen'kiy Angel_ right below it. Gabriel had settled on Little Angel in their mother tongue to honor his child that had been so cruelly taken from him. Castiel hated seeing Gabriel like this, weak and pale, and he knew his brother had probably been sitting here since dawn, just talking to his Mate’s grave, to his unborn child. Castiel switched the roses he carried to his other hand and let out a slow breath, grateful that today at least he was bringing his brother good news.

Gabriel turned when he heard approaching footsteps and gave Castiel a small smile.  
“ _Mladshiy brat_ , what are you doing here?”

Castiel walked up to the grave and kissed his fingers before bringing them down to the headstone and laying his flowers with the other bouquets and potted plants around it. “I came to check on you Gabriel. You haven’t been home in over a week...”

Gabriel sighed. “I just miss her so goddamn much, Castiel. I can't go back to that house knowing she won't be there, knowing that's where she died.”

Castiel placed his hand on his brother’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Then we will find you a new home Gabriel, but you can't continue to go on like this.”

Gabriel gave him a sad smile. “She would kick my ass if she could see me now.”

Castiel hummed his agreement. “I have news for you, Gabriel. I know the name of the soldier who carried out the hit on Kali and I know where he will be tonight.” Gabriel stiffened by his side as Castiel continued, “Are you up for this?”

Gabriel clenched his jaw. “Yes, I have waited for this all _week_ , Castiel. I will call Michael, Lucifer, and Balthazar. They will want to be there. Give me his name and the location of where he will be, I will have our Boyeviks from the security group pick him up. I want to use the Black Room.”

Castiel nodded. “We will get the _Chernaya Komnata_ set up together.” He stood and looked down at his brother with a soft smile. “Come now, Gabriel, you need to eat first.”

 

 

 

**Chernaya Komnata | Brightwater Avenue | Brighton Beach, New York**

The Krushnic brothers had been at it for hours, taking turns trying to break the 106th Soldier that had carried out the hit on Kali. The Black Room smelled strongly of sweat, blood, and vomit. David, the man who had slain Kali, was bound to a chair with thick nylon rope and beside him, Castiel was currently using pliers to remove his fingernails, one by one.

He howled as Castiel peeled his thumb nail slowly away from the skin, bright red blood blossoming to the surface. “I’m starting to lose my patience with you, David. I mean, this was fun at first! But now? It's becoming tiresome.”

Castiel jerked the pliers back, ripping the nail completely off and causing the man to curse. “Fuck you! I will tell you _nothing_.”

Castiel backhanded him across the face with the pliers, knocking his front tooth out and sending it clicking across the concrete floor. “I want every name that was involved with the hit on Kali Krushnic!”

David spat out a glob of blood and gurgled out a laugh. “Just kill me, I will give you nothing!”

Castiel opened his mouth to speak but stopped when Michael cleared his throat and motioned for Castiel to join them. Lucifer had his cell phone pressed to ear speaking in Russian to one of the Boyeviks from the security group and Castiel could tell by the smile that spread across his face that he had something. Dropping the pliers onto the table with a loud clank, he walked over to where his brothers stood leaning against the wall to watch as he tortured David.

Lucifer ended his call and turned to Castiel. “I have all their names and addresses. Our Boyeviks from security have been very busy. Besides David, here, four other men were included.”

Castiel nodded and turned to Gabriel. “Do you want to take care of David since he is no longer of use?”

Gabriel pushed off the wall. “With pleasure.”

David laughed when Gabriel walked up to him. “You’re back? Is it your turn to play now?”

“I'm not here to play,” Gabriel said calmly, his voice pitched low. He leaned forward to meet the man’s eyes and whispered, “I'm going to kill you. We no longer need you. A member of your crew gave up the names and even the addresses of the four other men that assisted you.” Gabriel reached for the gun lying on the table beside the other various instruments of torture.

“She begged for her life you know, for her life and your unborn child’s,” David taunted.

Gabriel gripped the gun and pointed it at the man's face. “I'm going to take great pleasure in listening to your wife beg, because when I'm done with you,” Gabriel smiled coolly, “I'm going to kill her.”

“N--” David's protest died on his lips, his eyes wide as Gabriel pulled the trigger, shooting him between the eyes. He turned to face his brothers, jaw set, and Castiel strode over to him and wrapped an arm around him.

“Do you want to finish this tonight?” Castiel asked as Gabriel leaned into him.

“Yes,” Gabriel nodded, “I will never be able to find peace until we kill every one of those fuckin’ _prisoski petukhs_ that were involved.”

Castiel glanced at his other brothers. “Pack up your weapons of choice. Balthazar, get the Expedition ready, and _moi brat'ya_ , prepare for a long night.”

 

 

 

**Home of Pakhan Castiel Novak | Ocean Avenue | Brooklyn, New York**

 

Castiel had been right about it being a long night. He pulled into his driveway a little after four am with Gabriel in tow, both of them worn out and covered in blood. He was glad Gabriel had chosen to stay in the city at Castiel’s own house and hadn’t tried to make the five hour drive back out to their family home up North. Castiel was also glad that Gabriel had chosen his residence to stay at.

Together they stopped by Gabriel’s house, though Castiel was the only one to go inside, and he gathered his brother’s clothes. Although Gabriel hadn’t asked him to, didn’t acknowledge the car even stopping outside of his and Kali’s home, Castiel knew that after the night they just had and their talk earlier in the day that Gabriel was grateful for both the clothes and for not being asked to go in. Gabriel would have broken down the moment he walked through those doors and was flooded with the memories of Kali.

After Castiel got Gabriel set up in one of the spare bedrooms, they both showered and changed into sweats and t-shirts. Castiel went over to his bar and grabbed a bottle of vodka and two tumblers. He dropped a few cubes of ice in each glass and motioned for Gabriel to follow him. When Castiel walked into the living room and sat down on the sofa, Gabriel joined him. He filled the glasses and passed one to his brother, taking a moment to sip his drink before looking over at him. “How do you feel, _brat_?”

Gabriel shrugged and tossed back his drink, immediately reaching for the bottle and re-filling his glass. “I'm glad I got revenge for Kali’s death, but it doesn't bring her or my child back. I will never see her beautiful smile again, Castiel... I will never hold my pup. I will never have the _sem’ya_ that I always wanted.”

Castiel shook his head. “ _Moy brat_ , don't think like that! You know Kali would want you to live your life, to find someone that makes you happy and would give you the family that you crave.”

Gabriel sighed. “I just feel like I will be betraying her if I move on.”

Castiel set down his drink and turned to face his brother. “No, you would be betraying her if you didn't live your life, Gabriel. Kali was so free spirited and she loved you so much. Do you think she would want you to spend the rest of your life mourning her, sitting by her grave day after day and not truly living?”

Gabriel shook his head.

“Exactly.” Castiel picked up his drink once more, taking a small sip before he spoke, “So you need to honor her by making the most of your life.” He raised his glass in a toast and waited for Gabriel to do the same. “Grieve, my brother, love her memory and grieve their loss, but do not stop living while you do so.”

Gabriel finished his drink and set the glass down beside Castiel's. “You are right.” Gabriel gave him a small smile and Castiel watched as his brother forced himself to relax back against the couch. Sighing, Gabriel started talking, “I can’t be there anymore, Castiel. She’s in every room of the house, she had a say or a touch in everything. I can’t… If I ever want to move on, it can’t be there. I need to love her from afar for now. Can I stay here with you while I look for a new house?”

Castiel smiled. “Of course you can live here. Take your time, stay as long as you like.”

The brothers sat there in silence for a few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts until Gabriel spoke. “Castiel? Do you ever think of having a _sem’ya_ of your own? I mean other than the Bratva, just you and someone you can love?”

Castiel huffed a hollow laugh. “No, you know it's not possible for me, Gabriel. Why should I even entertain such thoughts?”

Gabriel looked over at him. “But if you weren't Pakhan would you want your own family?”

Castiel picked up his drink and swallowed it down. “But I _am_ Pakhan, it's all I know and all I will ever know. I have accepted that.”

“Castiel that sounds so… lonely,” Gabriel whispered.

Castiel made himself smile as he looked over at Gabriel. “I have my brothers, why would I ever need more?”

Gabriel stared at him for a moment, biting on his lower lip as he slowly shook his head. He reached over and patted his brother’s shoulder as he stood, Gabriel’s hand was a warm, comforting weight. Castiel watched as his brother walked to the staircase heading to his room and looked up when he paused.

“We will always be your family, but there’s nothing like being in love, Castiel. And everyone wants that. Even Pakhans.”

Gabriel smiled sadly at him and left the room, leaving Castiel alone with his thoughts.

 

 

 

**Boston Autoport | Terminal Street | Charlestown, Massachusetts**

 

Dean nodded once, reaching for his sunglasses in the center console of Benny’s Land Rover and slipping them on before he exited the vehicle.

“Prepare yourself, Boss,” Benny warned as he rounded the front of the car and joined Dean as they walked across the pavement. Dean grunted his reply and they walked the rest of the way across the parking lot.

Dean’s late Grandfather, Henry Campanella --the last time the Patricolo family actually _sounded_ Italian-- had gotten their family involved with Massport’s Autoport for their shipping and receiving needs. It was made even better when John opened up Winchester Auto and they had a legitimate automobile business as their front.

As some of the workers at the Autoport stared at them as they passed by, Dean felt himself cringe internally at the looks they were given and couldn’t help but wonder what his father would think if he saw him now.

John Winchester had married into the family when he took Mary Campanella as his wife, rare but not impossible, and had spent years proving himself to the established family that he was good. Good enough to be boss, and he accomplished just that.

When John took control of the family, he eliminated two smaller factions of other families in the area and got their sales and distribution to double in less than four years. It was a hell of a lot to live up to -- no one wanted to fuck with John Winchester. As Dean passed by a few more of the workers he felt his stomach twist. If he couldn’t get this bullshit with the 106th under control… he was going to ruin the Winchester name.

“Alfie!” Benny called out from beside him, ripping Dean from his thoughts and pulling him back to the present. “Hey, man, how’s it going?”

“Good, good.” A tall man walked towards them, pulling a trucker hat further down over his face, and he smiled as he stuck out his hand for Benny to shake, then for Dean. “Got the Winchester shipment just back here… Kept everything on the container. Seems like you, ah, ordered a lot of red parts this time.”

Benny nodded, glancing over at his Boss before they followed Alfie to where men were still working on unloading a large shipment of containers. Brand new cars were being driven out and lined up, the containers being moved around on the tar and the ship itself. Benny pointed to a large blue container and Dean started off in that direction.

“I’ve kept most of my men away from it, but…” Alfie trailed off and Dean ignored him, approaching the front of the container. He wrinkled his nose, the smell of the city ripe in the summertime heat, and then realization dawned. Dean exhaled slowly and then motioned for Benny and Alfie to open up the container.

Beside him, Benny gagged as the stench of blood, rotting flesh, human excrement and fear hit them. Dean looked down to see blood oozing from the base of the container onto the pavement, half congealed as it dripped down to the ground. Alfie had his arm over his mouth, his eyes wide and Dean looked over his shoulder and met the man’s eyes.

“I know what you’re thinking, and the answer is no. No police. I will take care of this. Keep your men away from this container for now.”

Alfie nodded quickly, glad to be given an excuse to run away from the container and Dean looked over at Benny. “How many?”

“Shit, Dean…” Benny closed his eyes, forcing himself to take a deep breath and crack his neck before he moved forward. Dean followed where Benny looked; blood painted the walls of the container and the foot lockers that Dean already knew would be empty instead of holding his cargo. There were bloodied stumps, legs and arms and heads detached from their torsos around the floor in pools. Dean counted eight arms, three hands and seven legs from where he stood outside.

“Who are they?” Dean asked, mindful of the blood on the pavement as he stepped forward and leaned in. From the heads facing the opening, Dean didn’t recognize any of the men. Benny shot him a look and then with a grimace, stepped into the container, his boots squelching in the blood.

“I don’t get paid enough for this,” Benny muttered and Dean smirked at his friend’s back. He watched as Benny poked around, lifting some of the foot lockers and shaking his head to show that Dean was right-- all of his merchandise had been taken.

“Russians!” Benny called out from the back.

“What?” Dean asked, watching as his friend picked through the bodies and jumped back down to the ground. Benny made a noise of disgust as he kicked as much blood as he could off of his boots and handed a bloodied piece of paper over to Dean.

“This was in the back foot locker. Had ‘Open’ written in blood on it.”

Dean unfolded the paper and squinted down at the thick, black ink;

 

**I thought we had an understanding, a partnership. Your goods are my goods, keep it in the family.**

**We are paisan. Do well not to forget that, Winchester.**

**If you keep working with the Russians, it’s your bodies that you’ll find.**

**And Castiel-- _Oko za oko, Pakhan._**

 

Dean stared at the page for a minute longer before he folded it and shoved it into his pocket. “Get someone out here to clean this up. I want the bodies brought to Alastair. He can keep them in the morgue until the Pakhan decides what he wants to do with them.” Dean let his eyes trail back over the mess of the shipment container once more before he turned around to survey the rest of the Autoport. “Send someone out here to keep the lid on this as well, I see some new faces around here and I don’t want any trouble.”

“You got it, Boss.” Benny nodded his head and pushed the container doors closed with a loud metal screech. “So… Russians?”

“Warning for both of us,” Dean answered and turned to head back to the Land Rover. Benny walked beside him, stopping at the back to pop the hatch to switch out his shoes before climbing into the driver’s seat.

“So we really going to do this? Work with the Russians, I mean? Bellucci has never taken the _entire_ shipment…” Benny trailed off as he started the engine and backed out of their parking spot.

“I’m not letting _anyone_ tell me how to do my business, Benny. Bellucci is going to learn that he fucked with the wrong family. If working with the Russians helps me take Bellucci down and teach him a lesson? Then we’re working with them.”

Dean looked over and saw Benny nodding his head slowly. “They’re making me look like a fool, Benny… like I can’t handle my own business.”

“No one thinks that, Dean,” Benny answered quickly, taking his eyes off the road for a second to look at his friend. “Come on, man. This shit happens, and we’re going to teach those fuckers a lesson.”

“Yeah, well, no one would’ve ever tried to pull this shit with my father,” Dean sighed, leaning his head back against the seat rest.

“Sure they did,” Benny argued, “And your old man shut them down just like you’re going to do with Bellucci. We’ve all got your back, Dean. You’ve been a good Boss since you took over from John. If I were to be completely honest, I think you and Sam have a better idea of the ‘whole picture’ than John ever did.”

Dean rolled his head to the side to look at Benny who just shrugged in response. “Suppose I should call the Bratva…”

“You’re not going to have Singer do that?”

It was Dean’s turn to shrug and he ignored Benny’s confused glances as the older man eased onto I-93 towards Quincy. After a few minutes of silence, Dean reached forward and pressed the button for the radio, flooding the car with the classic country station Benny was obsessed with listening to.

“Can’t we listen to--”

“As a friend o’ mine once said, ‘Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake hole’.” Benny beamed, impressed with himself and Dean rolled his eyes.

“I could just demand you change it…” he muttered and Benny snorted, reaching to turn up the volume.

 

 

 

**Home of Don Dean Winchester | Hutchinson Lane | Quincy, Massachusetts  
**

 

Dean walked into the large kitchen of his home, padding barefoot across the tile as he got himself a glass from the cabinet and water from the fridge door. He slid onto one of the bar stools and took a large sip before setting the glass on the marble counter top and pulling his phone from his pocket.

He could have Bobby call one of the Krushnics. But as far as Dean knew, the contact Bobby would use would be Gabriel, and Dean had no clue where Castiel’s older brother was in terms of grieving the loss of his family. Dean supposed that Bobby was more than capable of figuring out who else to call to inform them of the discovery in the shipping container that morning and yet… here Dean was, twisting his cell phone in his hand and contemplating calling Castiel himself.

The Omega had made it clear almost two weeks ago on the last night Dean was in New York that he wanted _nothing_ to do with him. For a little while Dean was worried that when Castiel told him their business was over, he meant everything, their entire deal. But in the morning, both Bobby and Sam had been carbon copied the same email Dean received: a list of contacts in the Bratva, accompanying a request for theirs, as well as finalization for housing for the three Capos and twenty-six soldiers Dean was sending to New York.

Dean pulled the email up now, scrolling to the bottom before back up to where Castiel’s cell phone number was printed. Unorthodox, maybe, to contact the Pakhan himself, but boss to boss in this instance would be warranted. And Dean would be lying if he said part of him didn’t want to hear Castiel’s voice again…

Dean hooked his foot on the bottom rung of the stool he was sitting on and pressed the number and ‘Call’ before lifting the phone to his ear. He listened to it ring a few times before it was picked up, Castiel’s smooth baritone coming over the line.

_“Krushnic.”_

“He-hey,” Dean coughed, clearing his throat. “It’s Dean. Dean Winchester.”

 _“I know who this is… The question is why are you calling me and what do you want?”_ Castiel replied in a clipped tone.

“Well… I have a message here for you.” Dean paused, waiting to see if Castiel would say anything. “Umm, from Bellucci.”

_“What? What is this message?”_

Dean sighed, wondering if every time he and the Pakhan talked it would end up being like this. “We got a call this morning from the Autoport that my container was… suspicious. So I took a trip down with one of my Capos and we made an interesting discovery. One, all of my shipment was taken by Bellucci and two, he left us both a bloody mess.”

_“Explain.”_

“I have five of your men,” Dean started, “dismembered in my storage container and have been fielding police all freaking day. Bellucci was kind enough to leave the chainsaw he used to take them all apart with a lovely note…” He paused, clicking his tongue in thought before he continued, “Basically, he’s trying to be very clear at how unhappy he is that we are working together. And he left you a note specifically.”

Dean slid off of the stool to reach into his back pocket, pulling out the paper from the container and smoothing it on the bartop before him. “It says… ‘Castiel, _Oko za oko, Pakhan_.’ Did I say that right? What the hell does that mean?”

 _“Yeah, you said it correctly.”_ Silence followed and Dean felt himself pressing the phone harder against his ear. There was no missing the tension bleeding out in the other man’s voice… Just when he was about to ask, Castiel spoke again. _“It means, ‘Eye for an eye’. It seems he is pissed because we retaliated after Kali’s death.”_ Dean raised an eyebrow at the smug tone in the Omega’s voice now. Once again, he was impressed with the Bratva’s no-tolerance policy and wasn’t surprised they had already avenged Kali’s death. _”We found the men involved and took care of them… and their families.”_

Dean nodded slowly, then realized Castiel couldn’t see him through the phone.

“Good, I’m glad you found them. That was quick…” Dean stopped and silence stretched out between them. “I… have the bodies. I had them transported to our morgue to keep them until you decided what you want to do with them. There was no identification on any of them.”

Castiel made a noncommittal noise and Dean waited for his response. _“I’m leaving as soon as I get packed. I will come identify my men and inform their families.”_

Dean looked down at his watch and did a quick mental calculation. It would take Castiel a little less than five hours to get to Boston and by then it would be almost eight pm. “Should I find you a place for the night?”

 _“Yes. Set me up somewhere. I will need to identify the bodies and then find a way to dispose of them.”_ Castiel sighed and Dean knew the stressful situation Castiel was in all too well. _“I can't risk bringing back body parts, that's just not feasible.”_

“Alright, I’ll work on that. I’ll message you details on where to meet and I’ll take you to the morgue.” Dean picked up his glass and drained the rest of his water before padding over to place the glass in the sink.

_“I will let you know when I reach Boston.”_

Dean opened his mouth to acknowledge Castiel, but was met with a click as the call was ended. Dean took a deep breath, pulling the phone away from his ear and checking --just in case-- and then pocketed his phone.

A couple of dead bodies, a meeting with Alastair, and a pissed off Omega. Tonight was already shaping up to be a blast.

 

 

 

**Home of Pakhan Castiel Novak | Ocean Avenue | Brooklyn, New York**

 

Castiel walked into the bathroom to pack his toiletries; he knew would be gone for a few days and he needed to name someone to stand in for him while he would be indisposed. No way in hell would it be Michael or Lucifer... he didn't trust giving them that kind of power, not even for that short amount of time. Balthazar, Castiel briefly considered as he zipped up his suitcase but quickly dismissed that notion, he was too immature.

Gabriel, even in the state that he was in now, was still his best option. It had been two weeks since the death of his wife and unborn child and Gabriel rarely left Castiel's house. He had not been back to _Padshiye Angely_ since the night they had gotten revenge on Kali’s murderers, and that had been almost a week ago. He sold his house four days ago, along with everything inside, and told the buyers to sell or throw away what they didn't want.

Castiel had gone over before the sale to pack Gabriel's and Kali’s personal belongings without his brother’s knowledge. He knew that someday down the road Gabriel would want them, would want the memories, even if he was saying it was too painful now.

Gabe had spent the time since then lounging around in the living area in sweatpants, clicking away on his laptop looking for houses for sale in the area and watching Netflix. He would join Castiel for dinner, getting updates on the Bratva, but spent the rest of his time locked away in the bedroom he was using. Castiel could tell his brother was trying, but just the simple act of sitting down to dinner and listening to highlights from Castiel had Gabriel quickly tiring and returning to his room to go to bed, despite it only being seven.

Castiel sighed as he wheeled his suitcase out of his bedroom. He hated asking this of Gabriel right now, but really? He had no other choice. His job was to make sure the Bratva was in the best hands while he was away and without a doubt that would be Gabriel. Castiel placed his suitcase by the door and went to find him. He was in the kitchen, leaning against the bar eating a bowl of cereal.

“I need to talk to you, Gabriel.”

Gabriel set down the bowl and gave Castiel his full attention; he could tell by the look on the Pakhan’s face this was important. “What is it _Mladshiy brat_?”

Castiel sat down at the bar. “I need to go to Boston. I have already packed and will be leaving after this conversation. Don Winchester just called and informed me Bellucci left us a message in his latest shipment via five bodies and a note that stated ‘an eye for an eye’. I need to go identify our men and dispose of their remains.”

Gabriel stood up, nodding his head. “Give me twenty minutes and I’ll be ready to go.”

Castiel shook his head. “No _brat_ , you will be staying here. I need someone I can trust in charge.”

“Castiel you cannot go--”

Castiel raised an eyebrow and cut his brother off. “Choose your next words wisely, Gabriel.”

“Castiel,” Gabriel huffed, “You know it has nothing to do with you being an Omega. It has to do with you being Pakhan of the Krushnic Bratva and everything to do with the fact that Don Winchester knows who you truly are. Brother… I do not advise you going alone.”

Castiel sighed and fought back the urge to roll his eyes at his older brother. “I will be fine, Gabriel. I can take care of myself and going alone draws less attention. For whatever reason, Don Winchester has chosen to keep my secret. I highly doubt he would choose now to out me.”

“Castiel,” Gabriel shook his head again and Castiel could see the war of words going on in his brother’s mind. “What if it hasn’t suited the Don’s needs before now? We both know the effect he has had over you so far. I would like to believe all of our allies truly do have our best interests aligned with theirs, but this secret holds the key to everything you’ve built, Castiel!”

“Gabriel,” Castiel cut him off and fixed him with a cold stare. “I did not ask for counsel or permission. All I need to know is that you can handle things here.”

Gabriel met Castiel’s eyes, a flicker of hurt quickly replaced by determination. “You can count on me, Pakhan.”

Castiel stood and walked over to the door before picking up his suitcase. He looked over his shoulder. “I know I can, it's why I chose you.”


	4. There Will Be Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Russian Glossary Chapter Three**  
>  _Brat_ \- Brother  
>  _Dobroy Nochi_ \- Good Night  
>  _Mudak_ \- Asshole  
>  _Mladshiy Brat_ \- Little Brother  
>  _Sukin Syn_ \- Son of a Bitch  
>  _Vy chertovski shutish'_ \- Are you fucking kidding me

 

**"We're having too good a time today. We ain't thinking about tomorrow." -- John Dillinger**

 

 

 

**Winchester Auto Repair | Northern Avenue | South Boston, Massachusetts**

 

Castiel pulled into the parking lot of the Winchester shop and glanced up to the rearview mirror to see the black Sedan pull in behind him and park off to the side. Looking back at the storefront, he noticed it had all the markings and bustle of a legit business. When Castiel reached Boston he had called Dean and the Alpha gave him his work address. He shut off his rental car, a dark green Ford Focus, and looked over the establishment.

He took a deep breath as he exited the vehicle, gravel crunching beneath his dress shoes as he walked to the auto shop’s office. As Castiel made his way towards the door he looked up and noticed the Alpha leaning against it, his legs crossed at his ankles, and he was smiling at Castiel. The Omega huffed, he was slightly irked that Dean would have the nerve to smile at him after their last encounter.

“Welcome to Boston, Pakhan,” Dean offered, pushing off the wall and holding open his office door for the two of them to enter.

“I would say it's a pleasure to be here, but well, considering the circumstances...” Castiel trailed off and took a deep breath, the scent of spicy pine filled his nostrils and made his head feel slightly woozy. The office smelled distinctly like the Alpha and Castiel didn't know how much time he could spend in this enclosed space.

“Yeah, well,” Dean agreed and sank down in the large chair he had behind his desk. He waved towards the couch on the adjacent wall and waited for Castiel to sit. “Do you want something to drink?”

Castiel took a seat, wincing at the mention of a drink. It reminded him of the last time they were alone in an office together, how drunk and needy he had acted. He cleared his throat. “Water would be good.”

Dean nodded his head and bent down to the mini fridge that was stored beneath the desk. He pulled out two bottles of water, sliding one over to Castiel and then cracking his own to take a sip. He crossed his legs and leaned back against his chair, his eyes never leaving Castiel’s face.

Castiel twisted the water bottle in his hands for a few minutes until the silence between them became too much for Castiel to bear. “Where are my men?”

“I had their bodies transported to our family… doctor. Alastair owns a morgue in South Boston, he gave up renewing his medical licensure to work with the dead instead of the living quite a few years ago. He’s… getting each of them sorted out, so the right body parts are with the right body.” Dean paused, cringing a little before he added, “It was quite a mess in that container…”

Castiel’s jaw twitched as he ground his teeth. “Can you take me there? It doesn’t matter if he has the bodies sorted. I can’t risk taking them back with me anyway. I just need to see the heads to make an identification.” He looked up and met Dean’s eyes. “I don’t suppose you know of a place I can, uh… dispose of the bodies after I have identified them?”

“Yeah, I know of a place.” Dean nodded his head and reached for his phone. “I’ll let Benny know he’ll need to make a trip; he will take care of them.”

Castiel drummed his fingers on his knee as Dean made the call to Benny. After the Alpha ended his call, Castiel stood up. “Take me to my men.”

“We can take my car,” Dean said over his shoulder as he led them out of the office and through the garage. He gave a slight nod at two men that were standing in the main part of the garage where four cars sat in various states of disrepair.

For a moment, Castiel wondered if Dean actually worked on any of the cars himself, but he shook the question away and watched as the two men slipped behind the wheel of a large, dark SUV. Ahead of him, Dean was making his way to the opposite end of the garage and Castiel turned his attention back to him just as he was pushing open a heavy metal door. Stepping through, Castiel saw it was a small, personal garage and in it sat a sleek, black Chevy Impala.

“Here’s my baby.”

Castiel stepped into the bay and hummed his approval as he ran his hand across the cool metal. “Very nice,” he commented, hearing the sound of the SUV’s engine starting up from the other space.

Dean hit a button on the wall, causing the garage door to open, shaking and shrieking out it’s protest. He jerked his head towards the parking lot and to Castiel’s rental. “Why don’t you get your bags and I’ll take you to your lodging after we are finished at the morgue. You don’t have to worry about the car, men are stationed here all night so it’ll be fine.”

Castiel nodded and slipped outside to retrieve his bags. When he turned back to the shop, the main garage was open as well and the men in the SUV were pulling out behind him as he walked. He gave them a polite nod and carried his bags over to the Impala where Dean had popped the trunk and was leaning against the side of his baby, waiting for Castiel to return. The Omega tossed them in the trunk, letting Dean push it shut.

“Ready?” Dean asked and Castiel nodded, heading down the side of the car.

“Yes, let's get this over with,” he replied as he slid into the passenger's seat.

Castiel had been glad to escape Dean’s office but as soon as he shut the Impala's door, the smell of pine surrounded him once again. He slumped down in the leather seat. _‘This is going to be a long, torturous ride’,_ was his prevailing thought.

Dean turned the ignition as soon as he slid into his seat and beamed over at Castiel as he revved the engine. Castiel rolled his eyes at the Alpha’s antics but couldn’t bite back the small smile that betrayed him. If Dean’s life was anything like Castiel’s, the free moments like enjoying a simple car to drive, were few and far between. Dean pulled out of the garage and Castiel glanced in the mirror, watching as the black SUV followed behind them at a reasonable distance. _’Guards’_ , Castiel gave a sad smile as he turned his attention back to the road before them, _’always there, but definitely needed.’_

Castiel felt like he was drowning in the earthy scent of the Alpha, and to try to get away from the scent of pine, he tried to focus on the other scent in the Impala. It was something he couldn’t quite decipher, something sweet, yet spicy, and he had to hold back the sigh of frustration when even that did nothing to stop the heat from coursing through his veins. The Omega tried hard to just breathe through his mouth, but that proved to be almost worse because he could practically _taste_ the pine.

“So,” Castiel cleared his throat, “how far is this morgue?” he asked as Dean pulled out of the parking lot.

“It’s about fifteen minutes or so, depending on the traffic. Alastair works at BMC.” Castiel stayed silent, staring at Dean and when the Alpha looked over and caught his expression, he laughed and clarified, “Boston Medical Center. Between that and Brigham and Women’s… little morgues don’t do so well.”

Castiel nodded and leaned against the cool window, letting the chill seep into his heated skin. Fifteen minutes, that wasn’t so bad… He could do this. As if Dean Winchester could read his thoughts, the Alpha chuckled and reached for the radio dial, plunging the Impala into the sounds of classic rock and saving Castiel from having to speak to him.

 

 

 

**Morgue, City of Boston | Boston Medical Center Place | Boston, Massachusetts**

 

The historic hospital was one of the largest in the city and its many windows glittered like watchful eyes as Dean pulled up. As in most cities, parking was a premium, but for the morgue there was a lot set aside specifically for transporting bodies. Dean pulled in and off to the side, mindful of not blocking the official entrance.

Castiel practically leapt from the car when Dean pulled into a parking spot and cut the engine. He stood there, leaning against the Impala and gulping in fresh air, trying to clear his sinuses of the Alpha’s scent. Castiel looked over and Dean was watching him with his eyebrow raised and an amused look on his face. Pushing away from the car, he straightened up and smoothed out his jacket. “Lead the way.”

“You’re the boss,” Dean quipped and pocketed the keys.

They made their way to the large visitors’ entrance and Castiel followed behind Dean as he led them to the elevator and pressed B for basement. The elevator took its time traveling the two floors down, and when it dinged its arrival, Castiel raised an eyebrow when he saw the darkened hallways.

Dean shrugged his shoulders and stepped out onto the floor. “It’s after hours,” he said, and then smirked again as he met Castiel’s eyes. “You’re not afraid of morgues are you?”

Castiel scoffed. “Please, after all the shit I’ve seen?” Castiel’s lips curled up into an impish grin. “After all the shit I have _done_? It takes more than a darkened morgue to scare me, Don Winchester.”

A loud clanking sound to the left of Castiel made the Omega flinch and subconsciously move closer to the Alpha.

Beside him, Dean’s smirk widened and he held out his hand, palm up. “You can hold my hand if you need to.”

Castiel glared at the proffered hand and slapped it away. “Just lead the way _mudak_.”

“I have no idea what you just said to me.” Dean stared at Castiel and then smirked. “Wait, I _do_ know! You were saying how charming I was for offering you my hand, weren’t you,” he teased.

Castiel rolled his eyes. “I called you ‘fuckin' sweetheart’,” he deadpanned, “Now take me to my men so we can get the hell out of this place.”

The Omega took in his surroundings with a calculated glance. He jumped slightly as something clanged once again in the distance and he immediately turned his head, his eyes landing on the Alpha’s face.

Dean’s eyes lit up with mirth as he watched Castiel's movement. “Ah hah! I knew it! Fuckin’ knew it! You _are_ scared of morgues.”

Castiel glared daggers at the Alpha and tore his eyes away. “ _Mudak_ ,” he repeated in a low growl.

Dean clicked his tongue. “I’m beginning to think you lied to me. I don’t think that word means ‘sweetheart’. Not when you give me that look and say it like that.”

Castiel opened his mouth to retort but quickly snapped it shut when he heard a door open at the end of the hall. A lanky man with cruel looking eyes and an even crueler smile motioned them forward. Castiel stopped walking, causing Dean to pause beside him. He looked over at Dean with his eyebrow raised. “That’s your guy?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, that's him.” And as if he knew what was running through the Omega’s head he continued, “I know he looks shady as fuck. But, hey, look at the line of work he’s in.”

Dean started walking down the hall and Castiel briefly thought about Crowley, the Bratva’s Doctor, and how he could probably give Alastair a run for his money in the ‘shady as fuck’ department, before he followed after the Alpha. He picked up his pace to catch up with Dean, because even though he would never admit it, morgues _were_ creepy as hell.

“I’ve been expecting you,” Alastair said softly as soon as they entered the mortuary.

The room smelled of antiseptic and death, and it caused both Dean and Castiel to wrinkle their noses at the scent.

“You get used to the smell.” Alastair smiled, letting the door swing shut behind them.

The room was smaller than Castiel had expected -- there were four tall metal lockers against one wall, something he was sure held equipment, and a large metal desk with an extremely outdated computer sitting on top. There were two seven foot metal tables in the center of the room, thick hoses were hooked to the side of the table and there were two large freezer doors on the adjacent wall.

“I have your meat suits in the positive chamber, but if you would like to keep them-” he paused, somewhat dramatically, and gave another wide smile, “-fresher, for longer, I can have them moved into the negative chamber.” He turned back to them, showing all of his teeth as he looked from Dean to Castiel. “I think that would be,” his eyes brightened as he looked at Castiel, “your decision, Pakhan?”

Castiel shook his head. “That is not necessary, I think Don Winchester has made arrangements with an associate to pick up the bodies tonight after I have identified them. So all I really need is to see their heads.”

Alastair beamed and rubbed his hands together in front of him. “Would you like one at a time, or can you handle,” he grinned slyly, “multiple?”

Castiel bristled slightly at the innuendo. “Get them all,” he replied in a firm tone.

“I like a man who can… handle his meat,” Alastair pushed past the two of them, his shoulder pressing fully against Castiel’s chest as he went to the left freezer door and popped it open, disappearing into the cool air.

Castiel narrowed his eyes at the man’s retreating form and turned to Dean once Alastair had disappeared completely.

“He isn’t usually like this,” Dean answered the silent question softly and looked down Castiel’s body before meeting the Omega’s eyes. “He’s, actually, usually pretty silent.”

“Great, I feel special that the creepy mortician has taken a liking to me,” Castiel deadpanned as he rolled his eyes. “Lucky me.” Castiel looked down at his shoes and in a quieter tone he asked, “Dean can you, uh… Can you smell me?” He looked up to meet the Alpha’s eyes. “Do you think Alastair can smell me too? Could that be why he made those _remarks_?”

“Umm, I can, yeah. But I’ve always been able to.” Dean wrinkled his nose, leaning in slightly to scent the air around Castiel. “I can still smell the spruce, it smells like you took a bath in it.”

Dean gave him a small smile and looked over to the freezer door, making sure Alastair was still inside. “Alastair…” Dean dropped his voice lower, looking uncomfortable as he continued, “Prefers Alphas. So I highly doubt that he knows. He, um, likes the pain of Alpha on Alpha, if you know what I mean.”

Castiel’s eyes widened. “Ohhh, okay....” he trailed off not sure what else to say about that bit of information.

Dean opened his mouth to speak again, but the freezer door swung open and they both turned to see Alastair walking back out, pushing a metal cart ahead of him. The wheels were squeaking, a high pitched squealing sound, and Alastair was humming along with it.

He pushed the cart to the end of the first table “So, Pakhan,” he pulled the tarp off of the cart with a flourish, flashing that creepy smile as he met Castiel’s eyes over the five heads. “Would you like a little head?”

Castiel’s hand twitched. He wanted so badly to grab the gun he had holstered against his hip and put a bullet in the disrespectful Alpha’s head.

“You should show me and my men some respect,” Castiel growled instead of drawing his weapon before he looked down at the heads on the cart.

Dean’s eyes flickered between the two of them and Alastair’s smile widened. “Rawr, pussy cat. I like them… feisty.”

“Alastair,” Dean dragged out his name in warning. He stepped forward and reached his hand out to Castiel’s forearm as he saw the Omega’s hand reach inside his jacket.

Castiel’s hand tightened around the butt of his revolver and it was only Dean squeezing his arm tightly that made him relax his grip. Releasing it, he looked back down at the table and focused on the task at hand, identifying his men. He let his eyes roam over each face before he took a step forward. Alastair moved out of the way, giving Castiel the space he needed to look over the heads.

He pulled out his phone, flipping through the photos Gabriel had supplied him with before he’d left for Boston. There were only twelve mug shots Gabriel sent him of men who hadn’t been reported in over the last forty-eight hours and it was easy enough to match the five cold, blank faces staring up at him. Finally, he sighed and looked over at Dean.

“Tyrus, Abner, Jofiel, Ezra, and Thaddeus. They are Shestyorkas in my working unit, low level.” Castiel’s hands clenched by his side. “But still family.”

Dean nodded, understanding completely. “I’m sorry this happened,” he offered.

“Bellucci will pay for this.” Cas straightened up and tucked his phone back into his pocket. “I think it’s time we retaliate. You lost your _entire_ shipment and I lost five men.” Cas glanced back at the remains of his crew, shaking his head slightly. “He threatened us both and I don't know about you, but I don't like being threatened.” Castiel locked his gaze on Dean, meeting the Alpha’s eyes. “So Don Winchester, are you in?”

“I’m your man,” Dean replied, nodding his head. “We’ll teach that son of a bitch that he fucked with the wrong families.”

“Perfect,” Alastair whispered, drawing out the word as he pressed close to Castiel, leaning against his entire back to reach around him and pull the tarp back over the heads. “I can see you have good taste,” his tongue snicked out to lick his lips, “in business partners, Don Winchester.”

Castiel shivered at the press of the Alpha against his back and he _really_ hoped that was a gun in Alastair’s pocket. Castiel looked at Dean, fixing the Alpha with a hard stare. “I think we are done here. Can you inform your associate they are ready for disposal?”

“Have them ready for transport,” Dean said to Alastair and then waved his arm out to motion for Castiel to precede him out of the morgue.

Once Castiel was outside of the room he took a deep breath, ridding his senses of the smell of death. “So Dean,” he glanced at the Alpha, “where did you set me up for the night? I am tired and would like to get settled.” He ran his hand over his chin, momentarily lost in thought. “And I need to call Gabriel, give him a run down, inform him who the men were so he can call their families.”

Dean nodded, pressing the call button for the elevator. “Bobby thought that it would be best if you actually stayed at my home.” He threw a glance over at Castiel before pushing forward. “If something happened to you while you were in my city,” he blew out a deep breath, “your entire Bratva would have my head. My house is just outside of South Boston. I have my own security that I trust, and I think you’ll be comfortable there.

“I am sure your men followed behind mine,” Dean added after a moment and Castiel gave a tight nod. “And Bobby has made arrangements for them near my property as well.”

Castiel sighed and scrubbed his hands down his face. Don Winchester had truly thought of everything… As they slipped out of the building, Castiel looked up to meet his guard’s eyes, seeing the Sedan parked alongside the SUV carrying Dean’s men. He gave them a tight nod and then looked back at Dean. If he thought spending time in the Alpha’s office and car had been overwhelming, he could just imagine what it was going to be like in the Alpha’s home. _Everything_ would smell like him. It would surely drive him crazy.

“Okay,” Castiel replied, despite knowing deep down that it was a bad idea. Dean gave him a brilliant smile and strode over to the SUV to inform his men of the plans. Castiel knew that he should tell the Don he would be fine and make arrangements himself at a hotel for himself and his men, should get into the back of the SUV instead of back into the Impala.

But he did neither. Instead, he slid into the passenger's seat of Dean’s car, waited for the Alpha to slip in beside him, and let Dean take him to his home. Even though he was grateful Dean cracked the windows, he pressed his nose into his elbow from where his arm leaned against the window for the entire drive.

 

 

 

**Home of Don Dean Winchester | Hutchinson Lane | Quincy, Massachusetts**

 

Dean pulled into the garage, turning off the ignition to the Impala and looking in the rearview mirror to make sure the doors were shut behind them. He cleared his throat, suddenly worried about what Castiel would think about his house.

“Well, here it is. Home sweet home.” He grinned over at Castiel who returned Dean’s smile with a roll of his eyes. Dean chuckled and reached for the door handle. Before either one of them could open the door, Dean reached over and touched Castiel’s arm softly, remembering the Omega’s words from their drunken conversation in Castiel’s office about how the artificial scent made him nauseous. “Um, before we go in,” he gave the Omega a soft smile, “I just want you to know that you can be yourself here. If you want, I mean. I have people outside, but no one comes inside without my permission. Sam and Bobby included. I--” he cleared the sudden nervousness from his throat, “I want you to be comfortable while you’re staying here.”

Without waiting for a response, Dean popped open the door and got out, rounding the back of the car to get Castiel’s bag from the trunk. He picked up the duffel and slung it back over his shoulder, barely meeting Castiel’s eyes as he passed him and led them inside.

The garage led into the kitchen and Dean nodded to the glass breakfast table in the corner. “If you want to sit, I’ll drop your bag off and then I’ll make us some dinner. Unless you want the grand tour now?”

Castiel’s stomach picked that moment to grumble loudly and he smiled sheepishly at Dean. “Dinner sounds good, I haven't eaten anything since breakfast. But I would like the tour after.”

“Alright, be right back.”

Dean headed to the staircase, taking the steps two at a time and entering the third bedroom right across from his own. He dropped the bag on the end of the bed and quickly headed back to the kitchen. Castiel was sitting awkwardly in one of the chairs, almost too straight, his ankles crossed beneath him, and Dean couldn’t bite back his laugh.

“Come on, Cas. Kick off your shoes, stay awhile. _Relax_!” Dean rolled his eyes at the glare Castiel shot him and headed to the large, stainless steel fridge. He opened it up, perusing the shelves, before he looked over the side of the door and at Castiel again. “What are you feeling? I have steak, chicken thighs, some pork chops…”

Castiel hummed thinking over the options. “Steak sounds really good. I mean if it's not too much trouble.”

Dean grabbed the New York Strip and bundle of asparagus, dumping them onto the counter behind him. Hanging by the sink was a basket full of garlic and onions, and Dean grabbed a bulb of garlic and placed that beside the steak. “I can’t promise it will be the _best_ damn steak you’ll ever have, but it will be pretty close.”

Castiel rolled his eyes at the Alpha’s arrogance but couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. “I don't know, Dean... I’ve had some excellent steaks. It would have to be _really_ good to even rank on my scale.”

Dean smiled and pulled out a knife from the chef’s block on the counter to start smashing cloves of garlic. Dean was surprised when Castiel pushed off of the chair he was sitting on to stand at his side, wash his hands, and then reach for the asparagus to start preparing it.

It was a comfortable silence that filled the kitchen as Dean prepared a rub for the steak and threw some garlic in a saucepan to start sautéing. The smell of garlic filled the kitchen and Dean breathed in deep, then stiffened as he was hit with the smell of death. He glanced over, realizing that Castiel was the one that smelled.

Swallowing hard, Dean shifted slightly, reaching around the back of the Omega to rinse his knife and give him the ability to scent him. Dean shivered. He had opened the Impala’s window, hoping to air them out from the lingering smell of Alastair and the morgue, but he could barely smell Castiel’s sweet, orange scent over the smell lingering on his _skin_. He remembered the way Alastair leaned against Castiel, pressing against him, and suddenly Dean felt his blood start to boil.

“What are you doing?” Castiel asked, turning and nearly knocking into Dean who was still bent down with his nose inches from the back of Castiel’s neck.

“Um, heading out to start the grill.” Dean flashed him what he hoped was an innocent smile and then moved for the back door.

The backyard was relatively large, compared to some of the other properties around Boston, and Dean moved around the side of the patio to the large stainless steel grill. He turned on the propane and started the heat, turning the knobs to medium before he went back inside. He chose to keep the screen door open, hoping that would wash out Alastair’s lingering scent.

“So how do you like your steak?”

Castiel had managed to find a spatula in one of the drawers and was slowly stirring the sizzling garlic in the pan as Dean walked back in. He had to push away the thought that _this_ was something he was missing. One of the most important things he learned from his father -- other than the four best ways to kill a man -- it was that domesticity got you killed, or them.

“Rare, please,” Castiel answered, still watching Dean with a wary expression on his face. Dean smiled back at him, clearing his throat as he grabbed the steaks and a pair of tongs. As he passed by Castiel again, he couldn't help the flash of rage he felt at smelling another Alpha on him. Which was ridiculous. Castiel wasn’t _his_ , Dean had no claim over him whatsoever.

Shaking his head, Dean forced himself to focus on the task at hand -- grilling the best damn steak Castiel Krushnic had ever had the pleasure of putting in his mouth. Instead of leaving the meat on the grill, Dean stayed outside, listening to it sizzle against the flame and reminding himself that he and the Omega were business partners, that was all. It didn't matter that Castiel was attractive, or that he could give a shit that Dean could kill a man with his bare hands. Not that Dean would admit it, but he was sure if they were to compare notes, Castiel would be able to kill a man with his bare hands faster and more efficiently.

Dean remembered the look on Castiel’s face as he took apart the traitor at their first meeting. It had been business, a lesson, but the Omega had enjoyed it. He could tell by the way Castiel’s eyes had lit up, widened in pleasure each time the man had screamed, the way his tongue had darted out to his lower lip when blood splattered onto his face. Dean wondered what it would be like to kiss Castiel with blood covered lips, he licked his own at just the thought.

“Dean? Asparagus is ready.” Dean’s head snapped up to see Castiel leaning against the frame of the screen door. Dean nodded in acknowledgement and flipped the steaks, letting out a slow breath. Yeah, that type of thinking was definitely dangerous…

When he returned inside with the steaks on a platter, Castiel had transferred the sautéed asparagus into a serving bowl and found the plates and silverware to set the table. “Wine?” he asked, as Dean set the meat down in the center of glass table.

“There’s a wine cooler beneath the cabinet there,” he pointed to the island. Castiel comfortably made his way through the kitchen, almost as if he’d been there a million times instead of just the past hour, and pulled out a bottle of Cabernet. Without Dean’s prompting, he found two wine glasses, the corkscrew, and met Dean back at the table with two full glasses.

Dean gave a small, tight smile, shivering as his fingers brushed against the back of his hand as he accepted the wine glass. Castiel seemed unaffected, smiled and took his seat as Dean stood there for a second with his entire skin buzzing. Dean was once again hit with the scent of Alastair and he let out a soft growl as he took his seat, hiding it behind a cough as he lifted his wine to his lips.

If Castiel heard, he didn't let on, for which Dean was grateful. He pushed his chair in, trying not to hold his breath. Now that he was close to Castiel and recognized Alastair’s scent, that was all he could smell, even over the garlic coated vegetables and the aroma of the steak. And Dean thought the medicinal fake scent of the Alpha Spruce was bad.

Dean forced a smile onto his lips and reached for the meat, quickly serving each of them and then going for the bowl of asparagus. Castiel seemed content to let Dean serve him, something that surprised the Alpha, but if Castiel was comfortable, then he was going to roll with it. They started eating, the same contented silence from earlier fell over them.

Dean stopped mid bite, his fork suspended before him as he watched Castiel take the last bite of his steak. He was about to make a crack about how big of a bite it was when the Omega bit down and juice dribbled down his lip. Castiel’s tongue flicked out, catching it before it fell onto his shirt, but Dean’s eyes were glued to the spot he missed, now staining his lips red.

He swallowed hard, Castiel’s lips were moving -- probably asking Dean why the fuck he was staring -- but it was as if everything in the kitchen stopped, had slowed down, except for Dean himself. Dean got to his feet quickly, shoving Castiel’s chair back and planting himself between Castiel’s spread legs.

“What th--” Castiel started but Dean silenced him, reaching for the back of his head and crushing their lips together in a hard, bruising kiss. He could taste blood, and he wasn’t sure if it was from the steak or Castiel himself, and he groaned as he felt the Omega relax against his lips, kissing him back.

“You smell like him,” Dean hissed against Castiel’s lips, his fists clenching the front of Castiel’s shirt and drawing him in closer, his lips finding Castiel’s again. He groaned into the Omega’s mouth. “You shouldn’t smell like him, you should smell like _you_.”

Castiel hissed against Dean’s lips as Dean bit down, sucking his lower lip into his mouth. Dean felt Castiel’s arms move around his back, his fingers dipping into the hem of his pants, and it made Dean harder than he ever remembered being. He rolled his hips, his fingers tightening in the fabric, and he was hit with the sweet, orange scent of pure Castiel.

“You have no idea how damn good you smell, Cas… No idea… I want him off you, want you to smell like--”

“Pine?” Castiel whispered against his lips and it sent heat straight through Dean’s body.

“Fuck… _fuck_ ,” Dean hissed, kissing Castiel hard before shoving him and stepping back.

They were both breathing hard, Castiel’s chest rising and falling in rapid breaths as he stared up at Dean, his legs splayed wide and his shirt completely wrinkled. Dean swallowed hard. All he wanted was to wrap a hand in Castiel’s hair and pull his head back and sink his teeth into the soft tendon of Castiel's neck. “Fuck! Cas…. We can’t.”

Castiel opened his mouth, to argue, to agree, Dean didn’t know. He cut him off quickly, shaking his head. “Top of the stairs to the left,” he panted. “There’s a shower in there and I left your bag on the bed. I…” Dean shook his head and turned, heading for the stairs.

He fled to the safety of his room, slamming the door shut and falling back against it. He couldn’t smell Alastair now. Only his own arousal drowned in the delicious scent of Castiel. He felt his stomach twist, realizing that he and Castiel could _never_ be something he would have, not realistically, and he was filled with such a sense of longing that Dean was sure he was going to be sick.

“Fuck,” he whispered to the darkened room, knocking his head back against the door. He needed to shower, he needed to get Castiel’s scent off of his skin, and he needed to keep his distance.

 

Castiel flinched as he heard the Alpha’s bedroom door slam shut. He leaned against the counter and took a moment to try and calm himself down. He was panting, hard, and he was slick. So slick he was sure he’d soaked through his pants. And calming down was proving to be harder than he expected. Every damn time he took a breath all he smelled was pine and that was doing nothing to quell his raging hormones.

He knew it, he _knew_ staying with the Alpha was going to be torturous.

Twice now he’d been willing and both times the Alpha had turned him down. And deep down -- it hurt. And that confused the fuck out of him. Why should he care? Or better yet, why was he so willing in the first place? He’d never wanted an Alpha before, so why now? And why _this_ Alpha?

Castiel growled at the thought of how easily Dean had him willing to submit. It went against how he was raised, against everything he was. He was Pakhan Castiel Krushnic, leader of the Bratva, and he sure as hell was no one’s bitch. So why did Dean make him want to get on his hands and knees and present like a bitch in heat? He looked down at his rock hard cock tenting his pants and pushed off the counter to go shower, briefly wondering if he really did still smell like the creepy mortician.

Castiel went into the guest bedroom and opened his suitcase, removing something comfortable to sleep in and a garment bag to put his more than likely ruined clothes in before he walked into the bathroom.

He turned the water on and let it heat up as he stripped out of his clothes. He wrinkled his nose at how wet his boxer briefs and pants were, the smell of slick thick in the air. Castiel balled them up and tossed them aside to take care of later. He stared down at his swollen cock and sighed as he stepped into the stall.

Even in the shower, with the water sluicing over him, he still smelled Dean’s thick, heady pine scent. It was fuckin’ everywhere and he couldn't escape from it and it sure as hell overpowered anything left by Alastair. Castiel bit his bottom lip as he reached behind himself and slipped a finger between his ass cheeks, running it along his slick soaked crack.

This had been something Castiel had been experimenting with ever since Dean left him horny and alone in his office. The things he asked Dean during his drunken stupor made him curious the more he thought about it. For the first time, Castiel found himself wanting to know what it would feel like to be filled. He tried masturbating to turn himself on so he would produce slick, but it didn't work. It seemed that he could only get slick around Dean. So the next day he went to a ‘speciality’ store for the sole purpose of buying artificial slick, and to his surprise they had an orange blossom scent.

Castiel whimpered as his finger found his rim, the noise too loud in the quiet bathroom that was unfortunately right across the hall from the Alpha. Castiel bit down on his lip to silence himself and circled his finger over his tight, wet hole, dipping in, gasping at the slight intrusion. He wrapped his other hand loosely around his cock and rocked forward into his fist before back onto his finger. Castiel bit back a moan. It felt good, so much better than when he used the artificial slick.

He took a deep breath and gasped when he realized that he could smell himself. The thick scent of his arousal was amplified in the small, hot space of the shower. _Orange blossoms_. God, not only did his natural slick _feel_ better, it smelled better than the fake orange blossom shit he bought. He groaned as he smelled the way his scent mixed with Dean's -- it was sublime.

As he added a second finger his thoughts wandered to Dean. He thought about the Alpha’s fingers, how good they would feel inside of him. Dean had thick fingers and Castiel somehow knew they would feel perfect. So would his thick Alpha cock, and God, his knot was probably huge.

Castiel moaned at the mental image his mind was providing of him taking the Alpha’s knot as he pushed his fingers in deeper. He fucked the two fingers in and out of his hole as he thrust forward into his fist. His skin tingled and he felt like he was burning from the inside out in a deliciously wonderful way. Castiel let his head fall back and it thumped against the tiled wall. He tilted his head and imagined what it would be like for Dean to _mark_ him, to sink his teeth into the meat of his shoulder and _claim_ him.

He mewled at the thought and added a third finger, thrusting them a little harder and crooking them just right to find that magic spot inside him. He brushed his prostate and it was like electricity lighting up every single cell in his body. He groaned at the utter pleasure of it all, forgetting to be quiet, or maybe he just stopped caring.

He spread the three fingers inside him, stretching himself, imagining he was preparing himself to take Dean’s cock, to take his knot. Slick trailed down his thighs in rivulets as he fucked the three fingers in and out, coating his hand the more aroused he became. His orange scent wrapped around Dean's warm pine and Castiel was doing his best not to faint as the mixed scents overloaded his senses. He began to pant as he felt the heat pool like molten lava in his stomach.

The Omega massaged his prostate with the pads of his fingers as he stroked his cock hard and fast. Castiel came with a loud moan he just couldn't hold in, his come painting his hand and coating the tiles. He slowly pulled his fingers out of his hole, slick dripping from his hand onto the shower floor. Castiel's legs felt like jelly from his mind blowing orgasm and he had to sink down to the floor before his legs gave out. He pressed his back against the tiles, leaning his head forward to drop into his hands as he focused on calming his breathing.

“How in the hell am I going to face Dean tomorrow after this?” he mumbled to himself as the guilt of what he’d done washed over him.

Castiel sat there until the water started to cool before he got up and washed off, scrubbing his skin until it was pink and there was no way any trace of arousal was left on him. He shut off the water and got out of the shower, grabbing the towel he had set on the counter and drying himself off before he dressed in a pair of boxer briefs, sweatpants and a tee shirt. He grabbed his toiletry bag to get out his Spruce cologne but set it back down as he remembered Dean's words from earlier: _‘You can be yourself here.’_ The Alpha could already scent him, so why wear the nauseating cologne if he didn't have to?

He finished his nightly routine-- brushing his teeth, brushing his hair, trying and failing to tame the wild mess. He took a piss and then gathered his slick soaked clothes and put them in a scent proof bag. Castiel thought ahead and packed a few, knowing he would be around the green-eyed Alpha who, for some unknown reason, was able to fuck up his hormones. He walked back into the bedroom and placed the bag in the bottom of his suitcase before he remembered he forgot to call Gabriel.

“Fuck,” he muttered as he reached for his cell phone on the bedside table. He brought up his brother’s contact information and pressed call as he sat down on the bed.

“ _ **Mladshiy brat!** I was starting to worry about you,”_ Gabriel chided.

Castiel sighed. “Sorry Gabriel, it has been a very long day.”

Gabriel hummed his acknowledgement. _“Were you able to identify the bodies?”_

“Yes, I was. Tyrus, Abner, Jofiel, Ezra, and Thaddeus.”

Castiel heard his brother flipping through some papers, most likely the mug-shots he’d taken photos of. _“All our Shestyorkas in the working unit. They won’t be hard to replace, but…”_ Gabriel trailed off.

“They were our family _brat_ so this cannot go unpunished. I also need you to call and inform their families. I’m sorry I have to ask that of you.”

 _“Castiel, it’s my job. I understand and I will call them first thing in the morning. And I agree this cannot go unpunished.”_ Gabriel stopped for a moment. _“What did you have in mind Pakhan? I can put the plan in motion and we can strike back when you return tomorrow.”_

“I have something in the works with Don Winchester,” Castiel kept his voice even and sure, “So I will be staying on in Boston for a few more days, Gabriel.”

Silence for a moment and then, _“Would you like me to send some Bykis up?”_

Castiel briefly considered it before he cleared his throat and answered, “No, that will not be necessary, Gabriel. They are of better use at home. Don Winchester has plenty of security. So,” he shifted back on the pillows, “how are things there?”

_“Quiet, business is good. The Club is packed to capacity tonight, and no problems from Bellucci.”_

“Are you at the club?” Castiel inquired.

_“Yup. Finishing up the books now and then I was going to head back to your house.”_

Castiel smiled, he was happy to hear his brother was out of the house. “Thank you, Gabriel for stepping up while I am gone. There really is no one else that I would trust with such a task.”

 _“You know I will always have your back, **mladshiy brat** , and you will always be able to count on me.”_ Cas could hear a new note of contentment in his brother. _“Oh by the way, I found my house. It's perfect Castiel. I can't wait until you get back, so I can show it to you before I put in an offer.”_

“I look forward to seeing it.” Castiel yawned. “I’m beat Gabriel. I’m going to try and get some sleep now.”

_”Dobroy nochi, mladshiy brat.”_

“Good night, brother. Rest well.”

Castiel hung up and placed his cell back on the bedside table before settling into bed, the smell of pine still surrounding him. He thought about the Alpha that had, now, turned him down twice. Rolling onto his side, he made a promise to himself that he didn’t _need_ the Alpha, but he sure as hell would show Dean exactly what it was he was missing. He breathed in deeply, allowing Dean’s scent to lull him into a peaceful night’s sleep.

 

 

 

**South Street Diner | Kneeland Street | Boston, Massachusetts**

 

“I found her, Dean!”

Dean was woken up way too early for someone who spent most of the night tossing and turning, refusing to touch himself even _after_ listening to Castiel get himself off in the other room. He’d been plagued with visions of throwing back the covers and marching into the guest bathroom and bending Castiel over in the shower, taking him right there. It had been hours after the house was silent that Dean finally fell asleep and then his phone was blaring in his ear.

Dean had taken just two steps into the diner when Sam was on him, grabbing his arm and yanking him into a back booth. His excitement was tangible, almost contagious, except Dean hadn’t had his coffee yet.

He must have said as much, or maybe Sammy just knew him that well, because before he could even open his mouth to ask where their waitress was, a hot cup was placed before him. Dean lifted the mug to his lips, taking a deep sip, and then met his brother’s wide eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said as he pulled out a menu from the condiment rack and opened it in front of him “Who did you find?” Across the table, Sam huffed impatiently.

“Her, Dean! I found the one!”

Dean blinked, confused, until realization dawned on him.

“Sam,” Dean’s mouth lifted in an almost smirk before he stopped himself, “Please tell me you didn’t just mate someone-”

“Come on, Dean. You know me better than that!” Sam didn’t feel an ounce of guilt as he rolled his eyes in frustration. “Of course I didn’t just mate ‘someone’!” He grinned shyly, looking down at the table. “We want it to be special,” Sam whispered the last part. Dean almost laughed at the tone of his brother’s voice -- sappy, love sick. Then he realized Sam was being serious. “She’s _my_ mate, Dean. My true mate.”

“Sam…” Dean trailed off, not knowing what to say.

True mates were things of fairy tales, few and far between. It was rare for anyone to find their true mate, not without joining a service or searching for them, and it was even rarer to find them during fertile years. Although it was true that everyone had a true mate, a person they were perfectly matched with, most were too impatient to wait for that and mated to someone they were compatible with, happy with, long before their true mate came along. Hell, Dean’s own parents hadn’t even been true mates. He wasn't sure he'd ever met someone who’d been free to settle down if their true mate did come along, and a friendship with a true mate wasn't possible -- too painful.

Dean twisted the napkin wrapped silverware in his hand and cleared his throat. “How, uh, how did you know?”

“Dean… I can’t even tell you how amazing it feels…” Sam sighed, happily, and reached for his own cup of coffee. “I started seeing her a few weeks back, before we went to New York. We had fun together, but she hadn’t been sure she was ready for a relationship, especially with someone like me.” Sam gave a small smile and shrugged his shoulders. “Which, I totally respected. It’s not easy being with one of us, you know?”

Dean nodded and sipped his coffee, waiting for his brother to continue.

“Well, I took her out the night we got back from New York and she told me that we could try dating.” He grinned happily, fiddling with the edge of his menu. “She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about me since we last saw one another. She smells like summertime rain and I could still smell her hours after we parted.”

“Yeah, but, c’mon,true mates? Sam you know-”

“I know, I know. Let me finish.” Sam held up a hand, cutting his brother off quickly. “Last night I took her down to the market and we were just walking around, when I smelled it. I had smelled it off and on, but never that strong, and I’d never been able to recognize it before. Grass, Dean… fresh cut grass.”

Dean raised an eyebrow and leaned forward, grabbing his brother’s wrist and yanking his arm across the table. Every Alpha had a wood scent, strong and dominating, a Beta was neutral, calming and pure, and Omegas were floral, refreshing and alluring. But a secondary scent, a single scent that tied two partners together… He pressed his nose against Sam’s wrist, his brother’s Alpha pine scent was strong with a fainter, but distinguishable Beta scent of summer rain. And there, he got it, a new underlying scent of fresh cut grass.

“Jesus Sam! You _did_ find your true mate,” Dean whispered, dropping his brother’s wrist, his eyes darting up quickly to meet Sam’s. His brother beamed at him, almost bouncing in the diner booth.

“I know, Dean. I know! I want you to meet her. She’s just, God! She’s so amazing.”

“Does this mate of yours have a name?” Dean asked and smirked at the blush that spread across Sam’s face. “And when are you planning on mating? Are we going to have a ceremony?”

“Jessica, Jessica Moore. And yes, we want to wait, get to know each other a little better first, but she’s moving into the house with me,” Sam answered quickly and Dean nodded, smiling back at his younger brother. They ordered their food and Dean got comfortable, picking at his waffles as he listened to his brother tell him everything and anything he knew about Jessica.

As Sam went on, barely touching his own meal as he poured his heart out, Dean found his own thoughts trailing. He had entertained the idea of having a mate, maybe even a family of his own one day. But although he dated here and there, he never found anyone he would actually want to settle down with and definitely no one that had turned him into a gushing school girl like Sammy was now.

Dean shoved the last bite of his waffle into his mouth, chewing slowly as Sam _finally_ started to eat his eggs. He found himself thinking about Castiel waiting for him back at his house. Out of all of the Omegas he’d ever been intimate with, or hell, even been around, Castiel had the best scent of them all. Dean drained the last of his coffee as he thought about the warm scent he could usually smell around Castiel and for a moment, he allowed himself to think that maybe, maybe it meant something more.

Sam’s voice pulled him back and Dean pushed those thoughts away. It was dangerous to think that way. It wouldn’t matter if he and Castiel were compatible, wouldn’t matter if Castiel smelled like every perfect wet dream Dean had ever had. Castiel was the Pakhan of a powerful New York City Bratva, and would deny his true gender until the day he died, so Dean could never truly be with him.

“What?” Dean looked up, giving Sam a sheepish smile as his brother rolled his eyes.

“I said, are you getting yourself any pie to go?”

Dean glanced over and saw the waitress standing at the end of their table, waiting for his answer.

“Oh, uh yeah.” Dean nodded and pulled the dessert slip from the back of the table. “Umm, how about a slice of pecan? Better add an apple, too.”

Across from him Sam rolled his eyes and the waitress left to get his order.

“Well, Sammy,” Dean smiled at his brother, “I’m happy for you, really. When am I going to meet her?”

“I was thinking Sunday dinner at Bobby’s? Thought I would let her settle in the house first before showing her off to all of you guys.” Sam beamed and Dean smiled back at him.

“Yeah, yeah. You just want to break her into every room and surface of the house. I know your game, Sammy.”

Sam flushed red again but didn’t deny it. The waitress returned with a bag containing the two pie slices and their check, wishing them a good day before she went to another one of her tables.

Sam threw down a fifty dollar bill on the slip and then pushed out of the booth, stretching the moment he stood. They said their goodbyes, Dean hugging his brother extra tight and telling him to give that mate of his a hug from him when he got home, before he slipped into the Impala and started towards home.

 

 

 

**Home of Don Dean Winchester | Hutchinson Lane | Quincy, Massachusetts**

 

Dean pulled in front of the house, finding himself exiting the Impala quickly and almost running to the stairs with the bag of pie. As he unlocked the front door, he had a brief panicked thought that maybe Castiel would’ve already left, would’ve decided that after last night he didn’t want to be around Dean in any way, shape or form. As soon as he stepped into the foyer, he was hit with the unaltered scent of orange blossoms and it almost brought him to his knees.

Nope, Castiel was still there alright. And, from the sound of it, had made himself extremely comfortable.

Dean kicked off his shoes at the door and hung up his jacket before making his way through the kitchen to serve up two plates of pie. He grabbed a canister of whipped cream from the fridge and piled it high on both slices. Then he went to find Castiel who was sitting in his pajama bottoms, his feet folded by his side on the couch, and nothing else.

From the doorway, Dean stood for a second, admiring the view. Castiel laughed at something on the TV, muttering to himself in Russian, and then looked up, his eyes meeting Dean’s in surprise.

“Oh, I just got back,” Dean said quickly as he moved into action, crossing the living room and sinking down on the other end of the couch. “I,” he held out the two plates, “brought you some pie. Apple or pecan?”

Castiel smiled at the Alpha and straightened up on the couch making more room for Dean. “Either is fine, I’m not picky.”

“Here.” Dean offered Castiel the slice of apple pie, handing him a fork when he took the plate. “This diner has some of the best pie in the city. Sammy and I frequent it quite often.”

Castiel cut a small piece of the pie with his fork and slid the sticky treat past his lips, moaning as he bit into a tart apple.

“This _is_ really good, Dean.”

He darted out his tongue and ran it across his lips removing the whipped cream that clung to them, and Dean could tell he was fighting hard not to smirk as he tracked the movement.

Dean tore his eyes away, taking a bite of his own pie and mimicking the moan that Castiel had given over his first bite. When Dean looked over, Castiel was staring at him, his plate balanced on his knee. Dean glanced down, then reached over with his fork, taking a bite of Castiel’s apple pie.

“Hey!” Castiel protested but Dean had already shoved the bite into his mouth and chewed happily, his eyes never leaving Castiel’s who was glaring at him.

“Alright, alright, here,” Dean scooped up a bit of whipped cream on his fork and then a piece of his pecan pie before putting his plate on the table. He held a hand beneath his fork, just in case anything fell, and leaned forward to offer the bite to Castiel. Slowly, the Omega opened his mouth, their eyes locked, and when his lips wrapped around the fork, Dean dropped his hand to rest gently on his knee.

Silence followed as Castiel chewed slowly, nodding his head after he swallowed the bite. Dean smiled back at him, taking a deep breath and reveling in Castiel’s pure scent.

“Like I said,” Dean whispered, squeezing his fingers on Castiel’s knee before he pulled back and grabbed his plate, “Best pie ever.”

Castiel swallowed and licked his lips. “I think you may be right, it is the best pie ever.”

Dean nodded and returned to eating his slice, leaning back into the couch and looking at the television to see what Castiel had been watching. Beside him, Dean felt Castiel watching him carefully, finally returning to eating his own slice of pie when Dean started laughing at one of the answers on _Family Feud_.

They ate the rest of their pie, watching the show together, and Dean found himself shifting even closer to Castiel on the couch. By the time the program was over, Dean had his thigh pressed against the length of Castiel’s and his body was turned in towards the Omega’s.

He looked over, meeting Castiel’s wary gaze, and suddenly Dean’s focus was on Castiel’s lips. “I…” Dean started, clearing his throat as he remembered how it felt to have their lips pressed together the night before. He exhaled slowly before he inhaled deeply, the scent of Castiel making him dizzy. He could get high off the Omega’s scent.

“Dean…” Castiel said slowly, his voice soft, shaking, and it made Dean shiver. “What are you doing?”

Dean opened his mouth, starting to answer, but swallowed the words on his tongue. What _was_ he doing? Castiel was still, holding his breath, waiting for Dean to answer. He let his eyes trail down the Omega’s chest, muscled and tanned, all the way down to his low hanging pants. Dean let his eyes trail up, stopping at Castiel’s throat, and he was suddenly hit with an urge to strong to mark him, mate him.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Dean centered himself. It was obvious they were attracted to one another, but was that it? Twice now Castiel had provided Dean with the opportunity to take him, and twice Dean had let him down and struggled to sleep with the scent of Cas on his skin. No one had ever gotten underneath his skin the way the Pakhan had. And everyone else had been more easily attainable. So what did that mean?

Opening his eyes again, he and saw Castiel shifting uncomfortably under his gaze. The ball was in his court. Dean could laugh and push back, return to his side of the couch and end this moment before it even started. Or he could act, could press himself against Castiel’s lips and he _knew_ the Omega would open up for him, would accept the advance without hesitation. But where would that leave them? They were in a business relationship, not a personal one, and as a man who was denying his true identity for his entire life, would Castiel really even know what he was getting himself into?

Dean was asking for it -- he was definitely asking for trouble. Castiel would never be able to give him what he wanted deep inside, would never be able to commit and be a mate. And yet…

“Fuck it,” Dean breathed out, surging forward and pressing Castiel back against the couch. The Omega let out a surprised breath but shifted, letting his legs fall open, and Dean settled immediately into the space. Dean let himself melt against Castiel’s body, his thigh pressed tightly against the Pakhan’s center, his arms pressed down into the couch on either side of Castiel’s chest. “Just, fuck it. This is wrong, Cas, this is wrong. But I _want_ you.”

Castiel opened his mouth to answer but Dean cut him off with another kiss. He swallowed the pleased groan, pressing harder into Castiel’s body as Dean felt Cas open up to him. He kissed him hard, pouring every concern, every desire into the kiss and felt Castiel respond in the same way. When he broke away, the Pakhan was breathing hard beneath him, his eyes wide and pupils blown. Dean swallowed, waiting for Castiel to say something, to say _anything_.

“What,” Castiel started, taking a deep breath, “did I say about you calling me ‘Cas’?” The Omega smirked, his tongue darting out to taste the last traces of Dean off his lower lip, and Dean surged forward again.

“You can shoot me later,” Dean whispered against his mouth before he licked his way in, tasting the apple pie and sweet cream with the underlying scent of Cas himself, and Dean couldn’t help the way his body responded. Dean rolled his hips, feeling Castiel was just as revved up as he was, and broke away from his mouth to press his lips to the side of Cas’ throat.

“Eager, Puppy?” Castiel asked, but his voice was shot, no hint of malice in his words.

Dean groaned against the side of his throat as he bit down, sucking the soft skin into his mouth. He made his way down Castiel’s neck, down his chest, the scent of Castiel’s arousal growing stronger, so thick in the air that Dean could almost _taste_ it. Dean groaned as he buried his nose at the top of Cas’s sleep pants, breathing in deeply.

“Fuck, Cas…” Dean tucked his fingers in the waistband, eyes flicking up to meet Castiel’s for any sign of discomfort, of him wanting Dean to stop.

“I’ll fucking kill you, Dean Winchester. If you stop _again_ , I will put a bullet in you and I swear no one will find your body,” Castiel warned, and that was all the motivation Dean needed to slide the pants down Castiel’s thighs, pushing up to his own knees to free the fabric from each leg.

The Omega laid before him, his ass glistening in the lamp light, skin covered in slick. Dean trailed his hands up Castiel’s thighs, pushing his legs open wider, and groaning as he was hit with the delicious scent. Dean licked his lower lip, dipping closer to press a kiss against Cas’ hip.

“I want to taste you,” he whispered against his skin, feeling Castiel’s cock twitch in anticipation against his cheek, a low moan leaving his throat. “Can I taste you, Cas?”

“Fuck, _fuck_ yes. Dean, come on… do something!” Castiel breathed out and Dean smirked against his skin, kissing him again. He dragged his hands up, his fingers trailing through the slick and he pulled back slightly, sucking one of his fingers into his mouth. The taste of Castiel exploded across his tongue, citrus and spice, and Dean greedily sucked a second finger into his mouth. There was something about the taste, something Dean couldn’t pin point.

Just as he was about to dip down, to taste Castiel for real, there was a loud knock on the front door.

“ _Vy chertovski shutish'_!” Castiel swore, his entire body tensing beneath Dean.

“They’ll go away if it’s not important,” Dean muttered, letting his head rest against Castiel’s hip, the Omega’s cock twitching gently against his cheek. He exhaled, annoyed when the knocking started up again, louder this time.

“Dean! I know you’re in there! I see the Impala!” Sam’s voice was loud, accentuated by more knocking, and Dean cursed, pushing back on his knees.

“Sam only comes here unannounced if there’s a problem…” Disappointment flooded Dean’s entire body as he stared down at Castiel, naked and gorgeous, just waiting for Dean to take him. “Fuck, Cas…”

“Dean,” Castiel whispered, his eyes wide, “Sam can’t know.” He untangled himself from Dean’s body, reaching over to grab his slick soaked pants. “He can’t know -- and this entire place reeks of me!”

Dean could see the rising panic and he reached forward, grabbing Castiel’s arm. “He won’t.” He forced the Omega to turn and face him. “Look at me, Cas.”

Castiel had been scanning the room, searching for some sort of escape, and Dean shook him gently. “Go upstairs and clean up, put on that God awful spray, and come back down here. Sam won’t know, I promise. I’ll… I’ll make _something_ up.”

He watched as Castiel swallowed hard, unsure, still battling with just running from the place and Dean broke through his internal struggle once more.

“Do you trust me?”

“I trust you as much as I can for someone not Bratva,” Cas answered and Dean nodded.

“Then go, let me handle this.”

Castiel nodded, then tore from the room to the stairs. Dean waited for the sound of Castiel’s door to shut before he went to answer the front door, adjusting his pants before he yanked it open.

“I heard you, Jesus, Sammy! Are you trying to break down my door?”

Dean pulled the door back, letting his brother storm into his house. The look on his face had Dean instantly on alert and without saying a word, the two of them made their way into the kitchen to sit at the breakfast table.

“Cole is dead,” Sam started as soon as Dean sank down in the chair across from him. “Rufus is injured, and so is Ben Braden. I haven’t gotten confirmation but Ed Zeddmore, Harry Spangler, and Garth Fitzgerald are dead, too.”

Dean blinked, all traces left of arousal immediately gone.

“What happened?” he demanded, fists clenching on his thighs. “What do you mean they’re dead? What the fuck happened, Sam!”

“Firefight in the middle of downtown Brooklyn. It was a bloodbath, Dean.” Sam shook his head, looking around and scenting the air. He turned to Dean, confused. “Where’s Castiel?”

“Upstairs. He’ll be down in a minute,” Dean answered, watching as his brother nodded, contemplating.

“Why… why does it smell like an Omega in here?”

“Because Castiel was a bored Alpha? Jesus, Sam, can we stick to what’s important?” Dean snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. Sam turned to him, eyebrow raised.

“I think this is a conversation that both of you should hear. Castiel lost men too.” Sam paused. “Did you have a threesome with the Pakhan, Dean? Because _you_ reek of the Omega too.”

Dean rolled his eyes, shrugging his shoulders. “Okay, so we’re _both_ bored Alphas.”

Sam nodded and Dean knew his brother well enough to know that Sam didn’t believe him for a second. Dean was ready to embellish the story, but thankfully Sam dropped it and got up from the table. He opened the fridge and helped himself to a seltzer water and by the time he re-took his seat, Castiel was standing at the doorway.

“Hello, Sam,” he said, announcing his presence and Sam looked up, giving Castiel a quick smile before motioning to the chair beside Dean.

“I have some bad news,” Sam said, apologetically. “You’re going to want to sit for it.”

Dean watched from the corner of his eye as Cas sat down beside him, immediately crossing his legs and Dean knew he was probably worried that Sam could still scent him, even through the cloyingly antiseptic cologne he was now doused in. Dean wondered why it was that he could still smell the underlying hints of orange, why he could tell the cologne was as fake as fake could be…

“There was a firefight, in the center of Brooklyn,” Sam repeated himself, pulling Dean’s thoughts back to the matter at hand. He felt Castiel stiffen beside him. “I got a quick report from Gordon, and he said that Michael was contacting Gabriel as we were speaking. He was heading to the hospital with Rufus and couldn’t get me much information.”

“Why the fuck was I not contacted as soon as this happened?” Castiel interrupted, his fist clenched on the tabletop. “It happened in _my_ city and I am the Pakhan of the Bratva! I should have been the first to know!” His voice grew increasingly louder with each word.

Sam cleared his throat, sinking back slightly in his chair like he would if Dean had raised his voice. He raised an eyebrow but kept silent, waiting for his brother to answer.

“Well, Pakhan Krushnic, will all due respect,” Sam continued carefully, “it was mostly our men that were injured or killed. Although,” he frowned, “there were some casualties on your side as well.” He glanced at his brother and with a nod from him continued, “One of our men directly reported the incident to me. I am not sure why your brothers have not tried to contact you, but I felt it was my responsibility to come here and inform both you and Dean of what has been going on. I cannot speak for the rest of your Bratva.”

Castiel clenched his jaw and nodded. “I appreciate you coming to inform us.” He removed his cell phone from his pocket glancing down to check, Dean assumed, if he had any missed calls. “Especially seeing as how no one in the Bratva has seen fit to notify me.”

Dean could smell the anger rolling off of the Omega and he knew that this transgression would not go unpunished.

Dean cleared his throat and met his brother’s gaze. “What happened, Sam?”

Sam blew out a long breath and then looked between the two leaders shaking his head.

“Well, according to what I got from Rufus,” he scrubbed his hand over his chin, “They were ambushed. Gabriel had Cole, Rufus, and Gordon on different areas of the city to scout out some intell.” He looked from his brother to Castiel. “When Bobby and Gabriel spoke, they agreed that since Bellucci probably would recognize most of the Bratva, using our soldiers would make more sense to try and gain some solid information.” He gave Dean a nod as he continued, “We would be harder to recognize, easier to blend in, especially in the Italian run parts of Brooklyn.

“Gabriel assigned each of our Capos to follow different Capos in the 106th to look out for and let them assign their own soldiers. Well,” Sam drew out the word as he looked at the two bosses, “according to Rufus, they found something big. Ben Braden actually was the one who got in good.” He locked his eyes on Dean, knowing how he felt about the kid.

“Someone working for Bellucci fucked up, thought that maybe Ben was a recruit-- he looks young enough-- and they let him get close.” Sam stopped, biting on his lower lip and Dean recognized it as a sign that his brother was stressed, knew that whatever he was going to say next, either he or Castiel were not going to like what was being said.

Dean shifted, eyes darting over to Castiel who was staring Sam down. The expression on his face made Dean shiver and he was grateful he wasn’t on the receiving end, despite how hot it made the Omega look.

“Go on, Sam,” Dean encouraged and steeling himself for what was coming.

“Ben was able to overhear Peter De Canara, Bellucci’s underboss, talking on the phone. He was making plans about one of our shipments and seemed to know exactly when it was coming into New York.” He glanced over at his brother. “He laughed, asking if we were stupid enough to think they wouldn't realize we were still working with the Russians, and the man on the other line told him exactly what pier and when the shipment would be coming in and who to talk to for access.” Sam ignored the whispered curse that came from his brother and plowed on, “After he ended the call, Braden heard him laugh about how the Russians and the Patricolo family were too stupid to recognize what was going on. Castiel,” he looked directly at the Pakhan, “he was talking to a member of your Bratva.”

Dean felt Castiel’s anger and didn’t need to turn to see the expression on his face. Castiel’s fists slammed on the table as he stood and Sam jumped, but held the other man’s gaze steady, cutting him off before he could even speak. “Just… Wait. Let me finish.”

Dean felt his eyes widen, surprised that his brother thought giving the Pakhan an order, especially after the information he just gave, was a good idea. But Castiel surprised him by slowly sinking down into his chair. Sam swallowed hard and looked at his brother before pressing forward.

“Ben came back to the location they’d set up for housing, reported what he heard to Rufus. Gordon was there and told them that he would go and report it immediately to Michael so that something could be done, looked into. As soon as he left, the building lit up.”

“ _Vy chertovski shutish’_!” Sam’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Keep going!” Castiel demanded.

At Dean’s nod, Sam continued, “Rufus said they were outnumbered two to one by Bellucci’s men. They’d been hiding in the hallways, in some of the rooms,” Sam’s fist clenched on the table, “I don’t know how they got in or who _let_ them in…”

“What do you mean _let_ them in? What are you saying?” Castiel growled and Sam shook his head.

“I mean,” he continued carefully as he kept his eyes on the Pakhan, “that the only people who knew where our Capos and soldiers were stationed were the Capos, soldiers, Bobby and Gabriel.”

“If you are trying to say that _my_ brother, that Gabriel was responsible,” Castiel pushed out of his chair and crossed the length of the table, his fist gripped the front of Sam’s shirt, before either Winchester brother could react, “that he is the _leak_! You,” he loomed over Sam inches from his face, “are accusing my family of having a mole! I sincerely hope for your sake, Sam Winchester,” his voice became more menacing, “that you have some goddamn fucking proof to back that up!”

“Pakhan!” Dean shouted at Castiel.

“No,” Sam whispered, waving Dean off as Dean stood to go to his brother’s aid. “I am not accusing Gabriel of anything. Castiel...” He cleared his throat, controlled his breathing, “Gabriel is missing. It…it doesn't look like he went anywhere willingly…”

Castiel dropped Sam, stepping back in shock and Sam’s eyes darted over to Dean’s. “I think we have a leak, too, Dean.”

Silence fell over the table and Dean’s eyes immediately flew over to Castiel. “How… How did you find out about Gabriel?” Dean asked, mostly for Cas, and Sam gave him a small nod.

“Chuck Shurley was with Gordon and he reported it to me.” Sam smoothed his shirt down. ”He overheard a conversation Gordon was having with someone over the phone. A conversation I’m sure he wasn’t meant to hear. I think... I think Gordon is our traitor, Dean.”

“He was Dad’s best sold-”

“He is a Beta with an Alpha complex,” Sam hissed, “and he’s fought you every fucking step of your leadership, Dean!” The brothers stared at each other, silence stretching between them again.

Castiel looked from Sam to Dean before he broke the silence. “I have to go, I have to go _now_. I need to get back to New York, I have to find my brother. And I have to find out if I have a traitor in the Bratva.”

“Okay.” Dean nodded his head and stood from the table. “Go get your stuff ready, I’ll have someone bring your car around.”

Castiel gave Dean a grateful look and then nodded at Sam before leaving the room again. Dean made a quick call to get Castiel’s car and then turned his attention back to his brother.

“What is going on between you two?” Sam asked and Dean rolled his eyes.

“Nothing. What the hell are you talking about?” Dean watched as Sam shrugged, his eyes never leaving Dean’s face. “Other things to worry about Sammy.” He looked his brother over. “You okay?”

Sam nodded and took his seat again, watching as Dean paced around the island, thinking. If they had a leak… had they _always_ had it? If Gordon was supplying Bellucci with intel -- which, if the information Sam was given was correct, could be entirely plausible -- how long had he been doing it? Dean gazed out the window as he thought back to the last time he had actually had a conversation with Gordon.

 

_“I’m not an errand bitch, Winchester! I did years to prove my place at your father’s side, years of loyalty and hard work, and you still want your **kid** brother to be your Underboss? You think he knows more about the inner workings of this city than I do?”_

_“I would be careful of your tone, Gordon,” Dean warned, glaring at the older man from across the table. When Gordon told him he wanted to talk about their family, Dean hadn’t expected this._

_“Years, Dean. I’ve waited years for you to recognize my worth in this family. You took over for your father and I expected changes, I expected to have to prove myself to the new boss, but to watch as you take Sam’s side over mine, Benny, even Bobby’s side! He’s a **child** , Don, and not one with-”_

_“Enough! Do you question my ability to run this family, Gordon? Because that sure as hell is what it sounds like to me.” Dean glared and watched as Gordon visibly swallowed and bit back a retort. “I think that you’re the one who needs to learn his place. Maybe some time back on the streets as a Soldier will make you grateful for a position as Capo. I need a man who is invested, Gordon, who can man my soldiers, and your jealousy for Sam has blinded you.”_

_Gordon schooled his features, sitting back in the chair he was on and letting his shoulders fall in defeat. “I forgot myself, Don Winchester. I apologize.”_

_“Get out of my sight,” Dean ordered, turning away from Gordon and leaving him sitting in the office. He heard the other man shuffling around, taking his sweet time leaving, and when he was finally gone, Dean felt himself relax. He didn’t know what his father saw in that man. But having him closer to a position of power made Dean cringe internally. Hopefully, some time back on the streets would give the man a reality check, make him realize how damn lucky he was to even be a part of the Patricolo family._

_Somehow, Dean doubted it._

 

“Bellucci started to get his hands on our supplies after Gordon expressed his disgust with his current position,” Dean said suddenly, turning to look at his brother.

“I have no doubt in my mind, Dean,” Sam answered, shaking his head, “Gordon was in charge of shipping and receiving for almost all of those shipments.” He thought for a moment, “Giving enough to Benny and Cole, leaving enough of his untouched so that we wouldn’t realize or notice.”

“Get Bobby here.” There was only one person Dean knew could take on Gordon, one that the older man wouldn't question, and Bobby was it. “I want Gordon back here alive.”

Sam nodded, his phone in his hand the moment he stood, and he let himself out the back sliding door to make the phone call. Dean sighed, rubbing a hand down his face and felt himself jump slightly when a voice was cleared from behind him.

Castiel was standing back in the doorway, his bag at his feet. He looked just as stressed as Dean felt and he knew that on the ride back to New York, that his exterior would morph into the cold, hard killer he needed to be.

“Ready?”

“Yes, did you make the call to have my car brought here?” Castiel queried. Dean could still smell slight distress coming off the Omega, no doubt worried about the well-being of his brother; the one he was closest to, the one he trusted as much as Dean trusted Sam. Dean shuddered at the thought of being given the information Castiel received. The thought of Sam being _taken_ made his blood run cold. Dean wanted nothing more than to take Castiel in his arms and soothe the Omega, tell him it would be alright. But he couldn’t, not with Sam being right there.

“Yes, they should be here soon.” Dean gave Castiel a small smile. “I will help you find Gabriel. We will get him back.”

Castiel nodded. “Gabriel is a tough _sukin syn_.” He noted Dean’s confusion, “He’s a tough sonovabitch,” he explained. “He doesn’t look it, but he is. He will be fine.” He leaned against the doorway as Dean came toward him. “And thank you. Bellucci must pay for this Dean, he’s making both of us look like fools.”

“He will,” Dean’s voice held all the conviction Castiel wanted to hear. “We need to strike back. No more eye for an eye, no more defense. We need to hit him and hit him hard.” Dean clenched his teeth, angry that things had even gotten as far as they had. He should’ve seen, should’ve realized, he shook those thoughts from his head. “I’ll have Benny look into some things. You need to focus on finding Gabriel and I will get us our revenge, I swear it, Castiel.”

“Finding Gabriel is definitely my main focus upon my return. And don’t think for one second,” he straightened up, “Don Winchester that you will be getting revenge without my participation. I want a piece of Bellucci.” Castiel cleared his throat and met Dean’s eyes. “So will you be coming to New York when things are in set into motion?”

“Yes,” Dean agreed. “I will come as soon as I get Gordon back to Boston.”

Castiel nodded and Dean shifted his weight, looking over his shoulder at the sliding door Sam had disappeared through.

“I want you to be careful,” he whispered, stepping closer to Castiel.

Castiel furrowed his brows. “Just because I’m an Omega, De--”

The rest of the words Castiel was going to speak were swallowed up by Dean’s lips on his. Dean felt Castiel sigh and relax so he deepened the kiss, letting his hands fall to Cas’s hips to draw him in closer.

“It’s not because I think being an Omega makes you incapable,” he grinned. “Actually, quite the opposite. I know you can handle anything thrown at you. I just -- I care, Cas. I care, okay?”

Castiel nodded slowly, for once unable to come up with anything to say back, and Dean smiled sadly as he heard the beeping of a horn from out front.

“Go. Go find your brother. I’ll be in touch.”

Castiel picked up his suitcase and gave Dean a small smile. “You be careful too, Dean, I care too… just so you know.” Castiel turned and walked out the door.

Dean stood there for a moment until a louder than necessary slam of the screen door made him turn around.

“Bobby on his way?” he asked Sam, who nodded and pocketed his phone. “Good. We’ve got work to do.”


	5. Hunted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Russian Glossary Chapter Four**  
>  _Ad_ \- Hell  
>  _Brat_ \- Brother  
>  _Vstavay_ \- Wake up  
>  _Mladshiy brat_ \- Little Brother  
>  _Moy Brat_ \- My brother  
>  _Moy Starshiy Brat, Moy Zashchitnik_ \- My older brother, my protector  
>  _Vskore brat. Prosto povesit' tam_ \- Soon brother. Just hang in there.  
>  _Ya na nebo_ \- Am I in Heaven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for missing posting last week! Between finals and a death in the family, I wasn't able to get this chapter together. I hope everyone enjoys! -- Dani

_**“No one will ever kill me. They wouldn’t dare.” -- Carmine Galante** _

 

 

 

 

**Castiel’s Office | Brightwater Avenue | Brighton Beach, New York**

 

It had been three days since Castiel had returned to New York and consisted of three days of very little sleep. Along with the Bratva, he searched around the clock for their missing brother and Castiel needed answers. He hoped to get some today.

He moved around the back of his desk and set two tumblers down, filling both of them with vodka.

“Drink?” Castiel picked up one of the glasses and held it out for Chuck Shurley, one of Don Winchester’s soldiers, the man who’d overheard Gordon’s phone call and reported to Sam that Gabriel had been taken.

He’d wanted to talk to him the night he returned to New York, but Don Winchester had made arrangements for his Capos and soldiers’ immediate move to a different housing complex, one where only his family and Castiel knew the location. Out of respect, Castiel gave the family time to grieve their losses while his Bratva searched various 106th Crew locations for his brother. After three days of no luck in finding Gabriel and running out of ideas, he needed to talk to Mr. Shurley.

Shurley wrung his hands together and shifted, clearly uncomfortable, in his seat. Castiel noticed the man was very nervous, so he offered him a small smile. “Please, I insist.”

Chuck slowly reached out and took the glass, his hand shaking so badly that vodka sloshed over the edge and and onto Castiel’s desk. The man’s eyes widened and he shook his head quickly. “I’m sorry, so sorry Pakhan.”

Castiel held his hand up, hushing the man’s frantic apology as he stood to retrieve some napkins.

“It’s okay, Mr. Shurley. Drink.” Castiel nodded towards the vodka in the man’s hand as he wiped the mess up. “And please, calm down. I just requested your presence because you were the one who overheard Mr. Walker’s phone call about Gabriel. And then you contacted Sam, correct?”

Chuck nodded.

Castiel threw the soaked napkins away and sat down, placing his complete attention on the man across from him. “Okay, Mr. Shurley, I need you to tell me everything you overheard.”

Chuck tossed the drink back and grimaced at the burn. “I didn't hear much, Pakhan,” his voice cracked and Chuck cleared his throat before he continued, “Gordon walked away to take a call and I needed to ask him a question about our orders. I waited a few minutes after he walked off before I went to find him. He had his back to me and was still on the phone. I… I didn't want to interrupt, you know? So I, uh, just stood there and waited for him to finish his call.”

Castiel leaned back in his chair. “Do you know who he was talking to, Mr. Shurley?”

Chuck sighed and shook his head. “No, Pakhan, he didn't mention a name.”

Castiel nodded. “Okay, please continue.”

“I heard Gordon ask if they had managed to ‘get Gabriel’. There was a pause before Gordon inquired if he was able to be ‘persuaded’.”

Castiel tapped his fingers on his desk. “Persuaded? Persuaded to do what?”

“I-I don’t know, he didn't say more than that,” Chuck's voice quivered as he spoke, “He just waited for the answer and then asked where they were. Gordon then laughed at what was said and told the person on the phone that if he ‘wasn't able to be persuaded, at least they wouldn't have to go far to give him a proper burial’.”

Chuck took a deep breath and let it out slowly, Castiel assumed to steady his nerves.

“And then he hung up and turned around. His eyes widened when he saw me standing there. He… he stiffened but quickly schooled his shock before he asked me how long I’d been there. I told him I just walked up and changed the subject by asking him what I needed to. As soon as he walked away I called Sam, told him I thought something was up with Gordon and that I thought Gabriel had been taken. That was all the information I could give Sam at the time because Gordon came back and after that he started watching me real close. I'm pretty sure he suspected I overheard more than I let on...”

Castiel leaned forward and placed his arms on his desk, steepling his fingers together. “Is there anything else, Mr. Shurley? Anything at all? Even the most minor detail may prove to be important.” Castiel stared at him with hard eyes and waited for a response.

Chuck was very quick to shake his head. “N-no, Pakhan. That is everything, everything I heard. I left nothing out, nothing at all. I swear.”

Castiel nodded towards the door. “You are free to go, Mr. Shurley. Your Capo is waiting for you at the bar.”

Chuck stood up and stumbled over his chair, almost knocking it down. He adjusted it and apologized profusely before quickly retreating from Castiel's office. The Pakhan would have found the interaction with the twitchy, intimidated soldier very amusing under different circumstances.

As it was, Castiel poured himself another drink and took a small sip as he replayed the conversation he just had with Mr. Shurley in his head. Around the fourth time going over all the information Chuck had provided, Castiel growled and slammed his hands on his desk. “God damnit! I have to be missing something!” Castiel took a deep calming breath and shut his eyes, a piece of information from Mr. Shurley’s recount of the phone call coming to his mind.

‘ _Gordon then laughed at what was said and told the person on the phone that if he wasn't able to be persuaded at least you won't have to go far to give him a ‘proper’ burial_ ’.

Castiel's eyes snapped open. “ _Proper burial_... The family house, the Krushnic graveyard. They took him there!” he breathed out loud and then let the reality of it all settle. There was no doubt now that he had a traitor in the Bratva; they were the only ones who had access to the family home.

He had wasted the last three days looking into the 106th Crew when it was a member of his own family that had Gabriel all along! Castiel's own pride had immediately dismissed the notion of a traitor in his family once the younger Winchester brought it up, he was so sure that Bellucci was getting his information another way. No one in his Bratva would _do_ such a thing, none of them would work with Bellucci!

He’d been so damn sure and now that _arrogance_ had, most likely, caused Gabriel to suffer days of torture, or God forbid-- Castiel shook his head, he couldn't even entertain such thoughts. He needed to stay focused.

“Fuck!” he cursed as he rose to his feet, flinging his glass of vodka across the room. It smashed against the opposite wall and Castiel stared at the tiny shards of glass, breathing hard. When the desk phone started ringing, Castiel jumped slightly and straightened out his jacket before he looked down to see who was calling. Despite the situation, and the guilt he was drowning in, a small smile graced his features as he answered.

“Hello, Dean.”

 _“Hey, Cas. Been a few days… have you heard anything?”_ Dean asked and Castiel sank back down into his chair, pressing the phone against his ear.

“I talked to your soldier, Mr. Shurley, today and he gave me some information that was very useful.” Castiel sighed. “I had dismissed the idea of a member of my Bratva being in with Bellucci the moment Sam mentioned it. But after my conversation with him... I’m inclined to believe a member of my family has Gabriel and not the 106th Crew. I have wasted three days, Dean, three days chasing useless leads! But now, I think I know where he was taken.”

 _“Where?”_ Castiel could hear Dean sigh on the other end, letting Castiel know he’d been hoping for Castiel’s sake that the 106th was responsible and not Castiel’s own family. Castiel had known back in Boston that Dean believed his brother.

“Our family home up north... I’m going there as soon as I hang up with you. I hope I’m wrong… But I just have this feeling that I am not,” Castiel admitted as dread settled into the pit of his stomach.

Dean was quiet for a moment and then sighed again. _“You know you can’t ask anyone to go with you, no one from the Bratva anyways. Listen,”_ Dean cleared his throat and Cas could tell he was gearing up to suggest something he wasn’t going to like, _“I want you to take Rufus with you. And before you get all high and mighty about how you can take care of yourself, I **know** you can and we both know going in without any back up is stupid.”_

“I…I..” Castiel started, struggling for an excuse the Don would buy.

 _“Listen,”_ Dean rushed on, interrupting Castiel’s thoughts. _“Bobby, Sam, and I are heading down to the city tonight. I have a plan to get back at Bellucci. Bobby is going to take care of Gordon, and he will be able to direct the soldiers for Rufus if need be. Rufus is a good man, good people, and he’ll have your back.”_

“Dean,” Castiel paused. He had every intention of arguing with the Alpha, telling him this was Bratva business and needed to be taken care of accordingly and just by family, that he would be fine going alone. But deep down he knew Dean was right. It was suicide going alone and he really had no way of knowing who he could trust in his own family.

“Okay,” he conceded, “I will take Rufus with me if you are sure he can be spared… Now, tell me about this plan of yours.”

 _“Thank you,”_ Dean answered and Castiel could hear him moving around his kitchen, the fridge door opening and closing. _“Bobby got some information from one of my soldiers about a warehouse that Bellucci uses, just outside of the city. I don’t think it’s very far, so I’m sure that there will be a bit of chaos to worry about afterwards, but I want to hit it. I’m sure my supplies are there, but fuck it. I want him to pay. I want him to watch as everything he’s worked for over the past couple of months burns.”_

“So you want to burn it down?” Castiel hummed in contemplation. “I have access to explosives. We will just need to get close enough to plant them outside the warehouse. Do you think your soldiers can handle that?”

 _“Oh, they can handle that,”_ Dean said and Castiel could hear the smile in his voice. _“I’ll keep you in the loop.”_

“Call Rufus, let him know I’m on my way to pick him up.” Castiel stood and grabbed his keys off the desk. “I need to get up north before it gets dark. It will be easier to assess any danger while it's still light outside, and I don’t want to put your man at risk because he doesn’t know the land like I do.” Castiel pressed his phone to his ear with his shoulder as he locked his office door behind him.

 _“Alright, I’ll let him know,”_ Dean replied and silence stretched between them for a moment. _“Be safe, Cas.”_

“I will, I promise.” Castiel smirked. “Besides, I have every intention of staying alive long enough to finish what we started in Boston. Do you need to make sure there are rooms booked for you, Bobby, and Sam? I’m afraid we only have two available at the moment... we are rather busy. But my house has plenty of room if one of you would like to stay with me. After all, you were kind enough to let me stay with you in Boston.”

Dean laughed loudly, the sound warming Castiel’s heart. _“Oh, so busy there’s only two rooms left? Well, I suppose one of us will just have to make do with staying at the Pakhan’s house…”_ Dean paused and then laughed again. _“I’m sure Bobby would love to!”_

“Don Winchester that better be your idea of a joke,” Castiel huffed. “Are you _really_ going to make me come out and ask?”

Dean just continued laughing and Castiel smiled despite himself. _“Go get your brother, Cas. I promise you it won’t be Bobby staying at your house.”_

“I will see you soon Dean,” Castiel replied before hanging up, pocketing his phone and sliding into the driver's seat of his white Expedition.

 

 

 

 

**Home of Don Dean Winchester | Hutchinson Lane | Quincy, Massachusetts**

 

Dean pulled his phone back from his ear, looking down at the dark screen and seeing his reflection smiling back at himself. God, he missed Castiel…

Dean started, wondering where the hell _that_ thought had come from. He cleared his throat, suddenly uncomfortable as he slid his phone back into his pocket. It seemed like ever since Castiel left three days ago, he’d _plagued_ Dean. Everywhere Dean turned, he could catch the Omega’s lingering scent, sweet and spicy citrus that followed him into his dreams.

He’d woken up every morning since their heated make-out session, hard as a rock and seconds from popping a knot. It made no sense. Dean hadn’t had a knot dream since he was a teenager. And he sure as hell never had one over someone he was romantic with _or_ with someone that was supposed to be a business partner.

But when he closed his eyes, Dean could still feel the pressure of Castiel’s lips on his own, the way his body felt spread out beneath Dean’s body on the couch. The idea of spending the night with Castiel had Dean’s skin thrumming in anticipation and he was hundreds of miles away from the Omega. He half wondered if Castiel had slipped something into his drink, but knew that anything he might’ve taken would’ve been long gone by now.

For the first time, Dean Winchester _liked_ someone for more than just their body, and if that wasn’t completely high school then Dean didn’t know what was. He was the leader of the Patricolo Family, he didn’t _do_ feelings. Yet, here he was…

“You going to stop smiling any time soon?”

Sam’s voice made Dean spin around and he stared at his brother, trying to school his features and look casual. Sam, however, saw right through him and snorted as he rolled his eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Dean…” Sam sighed crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s okay, you know. I mean… weird, and I’m not really sure how _that_ would work, but you know I’d never judge you, right?”

Dean blinked at his brother, confused at what he was trying to say. “I don’t… I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about now, Sammy. How what would work?”

“You’re really going to make me say it?” Sam grimaced and Dean shook his head. “Sex, Dean. I mean sex.”

What? Dean opened his mouth to respond, then stopped and gave a soft laugh. “Well Sam… When a man loves a woman--”

“No, you dipshit,” Sam cut him off quickly, face flushing as he blurted out, “I mean, two Alphas having sex.”

Silence fell over the kitchen and Dean was careful with his next words. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, Sammy.” He narrowed his eyes at his brother. “But I don’t know of any two Alphas that are getting it on and I sure as hell am not interested in finding out _personally_ how that works.”

“Yeah, well,” Sam drawled, “I saw you two kiss, you know. When Castiel left to go back to New York. And even though I don’t… get that part of it, and don’t know how in the hell the Don of the Patricolo Family is going to date the Pakhan of the Krushnic Family,” he grinned at his older brother, “I’ll support you.”

Dean felt his mouth open and he immediately felt his stomach drop, anxiety swirling through his gut as he racked his brain for anything to say to his brother, anything to convince Sam that he was mental and he saw _nothing_ that day. He could threaten him, sure, to never repeat anything like this ever again, and Sam would. Dean knew that he would. He could tell Sam to mind his own goddamn business and wherever he wanted to shove his knot was _none_ of his brother’s business.

He could even say nothing, tell Sam to pack his shit and hurry up because they had actual work to do. Yet… he heard his mouth saying, “Castiel isn’t an Alpha, Sam. He’s an Omega.”

Sam’s eyes widened and if it were any other circumstance, Dean would’ve laughed at the expression on his face. Dean let out a slow breath, pushing Sam’s shoulder so that he was sitting down at the table, and sank down in the chair opposite him. Then he told him everything, starting with their bar encouter before the ‘Meeting’, Castiel’s drunken office advances, and Dean being surrounded day and night by Castiel’s sweet scent even though he was far gone.

Sam listened, asking a few questions -- _But how does he hide his scent from the Bratva? Does his family know? Dean, you know if anyone found out_ \-- and then fell silent, lost in his own thoughts along with Dean.

“Do you think that maybe he’s your mate?”

“No Sam, Jesus,” Dean sputtered. “You think I could _ever_ mate with the Pakhan? Even if we _wanted_ to? He’s an Alpha to them, a bad ass motherfucker that not one person in the Bratva wants to fuck with. If they ever knew he was an Omega…” Dean stopped, shaking his head. “No, Sam. He is not and will not be my mate. We’re just… I don’t know.”

“Fooling around?” Sam asked softly and Dean ignored the pang he felt in his chest as he nodded.

“Yeah, Sam. We’re just fooling around.”

 

 

 

**Krushnic Family Home | Peninsula Way | Lake Placid, New York**

 

Castiel pulled up to the long driveway that led to their family home and killed the engine. Rufus side eyed him as Castiel spoke. “We are going to go on foot from here.”

Rufus grunted his response, “Smart, don't wanna drive up, flashing our headlights for anyone waiting to see.”

Castiel nodded and got out, quickly scanning the area. The first thing he noticed was that there were no other cars around. Maybe he had been wrong, maybe Gabriel hadn’t been brought here. He slapped the hood of his Expedition, getting the other man's attention. When Rufus looked at Castiel he motioned for him to get out of the car and follow him. Rufus slid out of the car and took his gun from its holster, expertly checking the chamber before clicking off the safety and looking towards the Pakhan for direction.

Castiel walked over beside him. “I really have no idea what to expect or what we might be walking into.”

Rufus gave a short, curt nod. “This isn’t my first rodeo. I know to stay on guard and that we very well could be walking into a trap,” he replied as his eyes swept over the property.

Gravel crunched under their feet almost too loudly as they walked side by side to the trail of trees that lined the driveway. Both men had their guns in hand and ready to fire at the first sign of trouble. Castiel held his hand up and motioned for Rufus to stop walking before he spoke. “We are going to walk through trees that lead up to the house. If we walk down the driveway we are out in the open, an easy target for anyone who may be watching.”

“Well,” Rufus’ lips curled up into a small smirk, “We don't want that now do we, Pakhan?” Rufus walked past Castiel, gun held out in front of him as he dipped and darted through the trees. Castiel followed behind him silently.

They slowly made their way to the front of the house and a light breeze picked up as they creeped up onto the porch. Castiel could hear the water lapping against the dock and ducks quacking in the distance, but other than that there were no signs of life anywhere.

Castiel motioned for Rufus to get behind him as he unlocked the front door and quietly pushed it open. Stepping into the kitchen after him, Rufus whispered directly behind him, “Do you want to split up?”

Castiel shook his head ‘no’. “My men know this house and all its hiding places well. I think we should stick together. I don’t want you getting hurt, so you follow closely behind me, okay?”

Rufus harrumphed, nodding his head reluctantly. “Don Winchester told me to keep _you_ safe. And here you are takin’ point.”

Castiel bristled slightly and raised an eyebrow. “Don Winchester needn’t worry about me. I am more than capable of taking care of myself.”

Rufus grunted, “That's exactly what I told him.”

Castiel turned away from Rufus and smirked slightly. He liked this Alpha. Dean had been right after all, Rufus Turner was a good man.

The two men silently moved from the kitchen to the large living room. Castiel noticed the burnt logs in the fireplace and he walked over, bending down to reach in and touch the soot. He looked over at Rufus. “Cold, it's been quite a while since a fire has been lit.” Castiel stood and wiped his hand off on his pants. “We will start on the second floor and work our way to the basement.”

“You're the boss,” Rufus replied as he followed the Pakhan up the stairs.

They checked each and every room carefully and calculatedly on the first and second floor until they were right back to where they had started in the kitchen.

“Now we check the basement,” Castiel said as he walked over to the kitchen pantry and opened the door. He moved some canned goods around and pressed a hidden button. The back wall of the storage area opened up, revealing a set of steps.

Rufus stepped closer and raised an eyebrow as he looked at Castiel. “Any reason why the entrance to the basement is so well hidden?” Castiel side eyed him and Rufus continued, “I just like to know what I'm walking into.”

Castiel turned and faced him. “We have a room down there that is used to… persuade or punish those that need it. And if the house ever got raided by police we would not want it to be found.”

Rufus nodded slowly, clearing his throat. “Understandable,” he replied as they slowly descended the stairs.

They checked the only other room in the basement besides the torture room first; it held exercise equipment and a swimming pool. After a thorough sweep they deemed it to be clear. Castiel closed the door behind them as they exited it, then they walked down the short hallway and paused in front of a metal door with a code pad. Both men wrinkled their noses. The smell of fear, blood, bodily fluids, death and _spruce_ was strong outside the room. Castiel could only imagine how much worse it would be once he opened the door.

He didn’t need to go inside to know that he had finally found where Gabriel had been for the last few days.

Castiel punched the code into the pad, grateful that his fingers weren’t shaking, and pushed the door open. Rufus gagged and Castiel immediately buried his nose in the crook of his elbow as his eyes scanned the room. Blood splatter decorated all four walls and pooled, tacky on the floor. The chains they sometimes used on particularly stubborn individuals were attached to the hooks that hung from the ceiling, leading Castiel to believe they had been used recently since they weren’t there the last time he had been down here. Various tools used for torture were laid out on a large metal table, all of them covered in dried blood.

Castiel tentatively walked into the room while Rufus stood guard by the door. He looked at the blood stained knifes, pliers, whips, chains and saws. Yet, there wasn’t a soul, living or dead, in the room. Castiel shivered. If Gabriel had been tortured in here? He was in bad shape and bleeding out. Castiel refused to think of him in any other way. He backed out of the room and shut the door, refusing to meet Rufus’ eyes or answer his unasked question.

They would find Gabriel.

Rufus followed Castiel back up the stairs and into the kitchen and shook his head the moment Castiel shut the pantry door behind them. Castiel saw the movement from the corner of his eye and turned to give the older Alpha his attention.

“I don’t think your brother is in the house.”

“I have one more place we can check before we start canvassing the grounds,” Castiel answered curtly, pushing past him and adding over his shoulder, “Come on, the boathouse is this way.”

They made their way carefully across the grounds to the large lake where a boathouse sat on the water’s edge. The closer they got to the structure, the stronger the scent of blood and spruce became. Giving up on stealth, Castiel made sure a bullet was in the chamber of his gun and broke out into a run.

Rufus huffed and started after him. “God dammit, wait for me!”

Castiel threw open the doors, gun aimed and finger pressing against the trigger as he scanned the large area. Gabriel was lying on the left dock, curled on his side. His clothes were dirty, torn and stained crimson. There was blood pooled all around him, he wasn't moving and he didn't look like he was breathing. Castiel started to take a step closer and Rufus put his hand on the Pakhan’s shoulder stopping him. Castiel’s heart started to beat rapidly in his chest and he yanked himself out of the touch before striding over to Gabriel and dropping down on his knees beside him, taking in his brother's appearance.

There was so much blood it was hard to assess the damage. From what Castiel could see, cuts and gashes littered his body; some shallow, some deep. His eyes were black and purple, swollen to the point that if Gabriel _did_ open his eyes, he wouldn't be able to open them far, if at all. His nose was definitely broken and his lips had been split open in more than one place. But what really caught Castiel’s attention was the deep gash that started at his hairline and trailed down his cheek before ending at his chin. But, as deep as the gash was, it could never account for all of the blood.

Castiel tossed the keys to the Expedition to Rufus and yelled, “Get the car! We going to have to get him out of here. We can't call an ambulance, can't risk cops coming out here. Drive it up as close as you can.”

Rufus nodded and ran from the boathouse.

Castiel turned back to his brother, “ _Brat! Brat, vstavay_!”

Nothing. Gabriel continued to lie there, lifeless. Castiel clenched his fists and shook his head. He was afraid to touch him, lift him, but he fought against his own feelings and gently turned his brother onto his back. “You are strong Gabriel! You will not die like this!” Castiel heard himself screaming, fighting to keep his hands steady, “Wake up!”

 

 

 

Gabriel coughed and blood dripped in a long, thin lines from his mouth. He scrunched up his nose, whimpering at the pain the simple movement caused. “ _Moy mladshiy brat,_ ” he wheezed, “ _Ya na nebo_?”

Castiel barked out a laugh, tears springing to his eyes. “Do you think it would really be me that you would see if you were in Heaven?”

“Good,” Gabriel gasped, “point... am I in _Ad_ then?” Gabriel tried to open his eyes but again the pain was too much and he fell back with a sharp wheeze.

“Not Hell, either, _moy brat_.” Castiel shook his head, a small smile spreading across his lips. “I'm glad to know almost dying did not rob you of your sense of humor.”

Gabriel shakily reached out and took Castiel's hand. “Castiel, there is… something I need... to tell you before I…” Gabriel grimaced in pain again, tensing his fingers around Castiel’s. “Before I pass out or-”

Castiel cut his brother off, “Do not finish that sentence, Gabriel Mika.”

Gabriel gave a small nod and swallowed hard before he continued, his voice coming out in a raspy whisper, “Lucifer did this.”

Castiel leaned down closer to his brother to make sure he heard correctly. “Say that again _brat_.”

“ _Lucifer_... In with Bellucci.”

Castiel growled, “Lucifer? Lucifer did this!? Our own _brat_ did this to you?!”

Gabriel tried to reach for his Pakhan but gasped in pain again. “He's planning on taking you down, Castiel. He kid-” he stopped for a moment and Castiel held his breath, “-kidnapped me… try… persuade me to join him.” Gabriel’s chest heaved with the effort to talk. Castiel lifted his free hand and placed it over his chest, keeping a comforting pressure there while Gabriel tried to finish.

Gabriel swallowed hard and grabbed for his younger brother’s hand, his sightless eyes seeking Castiel’s. “He knows you let your guard down around me and he wanted to use that to his advantage…” Gabriel stopped in a fit of coughing and Castiel could hear the blood and fluid in his lungs. He winced and met his brother’s barely open eyes. “… he realized I wouldn't turn on you… tried to get information about you.”

Castiel stiffened by Gabriel's side and Gabriel gave his brother’s hand a small squeeze.

“I gave him nothing, Castiel. _Mladshiy brat,_ I would rather die than betray you.” After another gasping breath, Castiel did his best to prop him up, to ease the strain on his lungs. Gabriel turned to him slowly. “Once Lucifer figured that, he beat me… left me for dead.”

Silence fell between them as Castiel looked down at Gabriel, struggling for each breath he took. A wet cough broke the silence and Gabriel released his hand to clutch his ribs. “I’m scared shitless, Castiel…” he whispered and Castiel watched as his brother’s eyes fluttered closed, sweat beading across his upper lip. “Can we... get me to a hospital now before I die for real?”

Castiel smiled down at Gabriel, swallowing hard as he found and squeezed his brother’s cold hand. “Yes, we will get you to the hospital, and you are not going to die on me. That is an order from your Pakhan, you got that?”

Gabriel murmured, “Yeah, I got it. But get me there quick, yeah? I’ve lost a lot of blood, I'm woozy and... I can’t feel my legs. I still have legs, right?.”

“Yes,” Castiel reassured his brother, “you still have legs.” He turned to look for Rufus, listening for a moment for an approaching car. “I didn’t come alone. One of the Patricolo crew is with me, he’s getting the car.” He kept his eyes peeled in the direction Rufus would be coming and squeezed Gabriel’s hand.

“ _Vskore brat. Prosto povesit' tam,_ ” he comforted softly, but as he looked back down at Gabriel, he saw that his brother had passed out again. Castiel gently moved his brother’s body, moving him into the recovery position with the comment about him not being able to feel his legs worrying in the back of his mind. Castiel knew his Krysha’s MO. Lucifer was an enforcer; his job was violence and he was damn good at it. Castiel looked over Gabriel’s back and just as he expected, he counted three deep knife wounds.

Castiel held Gabriel close and shut his eyes. He had one brother who was in such bad shape he didn't know if he would live and if he did live, it was entirely possible he would not walk again. Then he had a brother that was a traitor. There was one thing Castiel knew for sure though, he would find Lucifer and kill him for what he had done to his family, his Bratva. And he would be the one to do it. His death would damn sure be neither quick nor painless.

Castiel heard the tires of the Expedition squeal and gravel fly as Rufus slammed the brakes. He jumped from the vehicle and ran toward them.

“We need to be careful,” Rufus said as he crouched next to the Pakhan and his brother.

“We do.” Castiel moved to Gabriel’s center and looked over at Rufus. “We need to get him to the nearest hospital.” He stood up before bending back down and picking up his unconscious brother bridal style. He carried him to the car and Rufus opened the back door for the brothers. Castiel laid Gabriel gently on the backseat, trying as hard as he could to keep Gabriel as straight as possible, before he slid in beside him. Rufus raised an eyebrow at the Pakhan. Castiel looked from his brother back to him. “You drive, I will give you directions.”

Rufus nodded and slammed the back door before getting back into the driver's seat and peeling away from the docks and off the property.

Castiel looked back down at his brother whose breathing had turned very shallow. Castiel leaned down and whispered in Gabriel's ear where only he could hear what was being said, “Do not die on me, Gabriel. You can't because I - I can't do this without you, _moy starshiy brat, moy zashchitnik_. Did you hear me? You are my right hand man, my older brother, you are always there for me,” his voice hitched slightly, but he pressed on, “Gabriel, you must fight, you are my protector, you're the only one who knows the real me… Well one of two now... Make it through this, _brat!_ I want to tell you about him. Gabriel, I'm so confused about that whole situation. I really need your advice. I need you, I need my big brother. So don't leave me okay?”

 

 

 

**Home of Pakhan Castiel Novak | Ocean Avenue | Brooklyn, New York**

 

Dean looked around at the large house before him, side glancing over at Sam before he exited the Impala. Castiel’s text had been short, but it got his point across. _**Do not go to the club**_ was quickly followed by an address. Dean had texted him back, asking if he’d found Gabe and why the club was a bad idea, but it had been radio silence ever since.

“Who do you think this house belongs to?” Sam started up to the front entrance.

Dean shrugged his shoulders and walked up the steps, knocking on the door with three quick raps before he stepped to the side. Although he was sure Castiel wouldn’t send him or Sam into any danger, standing point blank in front of a door was just asking for it.

After a few minutes of silence, Sam leaned in and tried knocking himself.

“I don’t think anyone’s home,” Sam muttered and Dean rolled his eyes, walking to the large bay window on the left side of the door and cupping his face against it. The house was dark, but the window was cracked, and Dean could smell the mingling scent of spruce and orange blossoms coming from inside.

“It’s Cas’ house. Come on.” He pushed away from the window and stepped off the porch, moving around the side of the house.

“Cas? You call him Cas?” Sam asked from behind him as he followed after his brother. Dean rolled his eyes but stayed silent. The house itself was huge, bigger than Dean’s own, and Dean’s house almost hit four thousand square feet. They hopped up onto the back deck and Dean tried the back door, unsurprisingly finding it locked.

“You got a kit?” He looked over his shoulder at Sam who was already pulling the leather case out of his pocket and untying the strap. Dean smiled, remembering how their father who passed down his own tools and taught them everything they needed to know. Sam pulled out a lock pick and got to work on the back door.

Dean watched as his brother unlocked it in just seconds and just as Sam reached for the knob, a thought hit him. “Um, Sammy, do you think Cas has a security system?”

A loud screeching from inside of the house was the only answer they needed, and the brother’s pushed their way inside and slammed the back door shut.

“How do we turn it off?” Dean yelled over the sound and Sam made his way to the box, looking at it for a few seconds before he started punching in a code.

When the silence returned, it left Dean’s ears ringing. He stared at his brother for a moment before he asked, “How the hell did you do that?”

Sam shrugged his shoulders. “Learned the master codes of different companies around the area. Luckily, Castiel uses the same company we have back in Boston.”

“You memorized a shit ton of number codes… for fun?” Dean snorted and pushed past him. “You’re a freak, Sammy.”

“I could set it back off and you can have the police shut it off for you instead!” Sam fired back but followed Dean through the downstairs of the house.

The house was clean and Dean somehow knew that, unlike himself, Castiel probably did his own housework instead of hiring someone. Castiel was private and he couldn’t imagine him allowing someone he didn’t know to tramp through his house.

Each room smelled of Castiel and if Dean closed his eyes he could almost imagine the Omega standing beside him instead of Sam. When they reached a sitting area, Dean made a beeline for a large arm chair that he knew was where Castiel usually sat. He sank down into it and breathed in deeply, only opening his eyes when Sam made a noise.

“You’re fucking in deep, Dean,” Sam muttered, sitting on the couch opposite him.

Dean crossed his arms over his chest and glared at his brother.

“Whatever,” Sam said, undeterred by his brother’s defiance. “Deny it all you want.”

“It’s not going to happen Sammy. So move on.”

Sam was silent for a moment before he sighed and changed the subject. “I got word from Adam about Bellucci’s warehouse…”

Dean raised an eyebrow, encouraging Sam to continue.

“He said they were successful in keeping things from Gordon so far.” Sam smoothed his hands over his thighs. “I kind of put Shurley in a temporary position as Capo while we’re figuring out things with Gordon.”

“Is he strong enough to be a Capo?” Dean sat forward running a hand down his face. “Shurley is a bit…”

“I know,” Sam agreed, nodding his head, “But he’s got more backbone than you think. He’s just got an odd way of showing it.”

Dean shrugged, trusting his brother’s opinion.

“Anyway,” Sam continued, “I gave him a quick update about what was going on and told him that he was in charge of both Rufus’ soldiers and Gordon’s while the two of them were busy. I told him to be wary of who he gave information to -- everything is on a need to know basis.”

“Alright, that’s good.” Dean sat back adjusting his jacket. “I hope that Gordon doesn’t have a large following… We’re going to have to weed through his soldiers you know.” Dean sighed and Sam nodded, thinking.

“Well, that’s why I told Shurley to keep most of Rufus’ guys on the warehouse. He told me everything is all set, just waiting for your command.”

“Did you hear from Bobby?” Dean asked, leaning forward and placing his elbows against his knees. “Is Gordon actually out of commission right now?”

“Yeah, Bobby told him that he was needed back in Boston for his family. He… strongly suggested that Mrs. Walker play along and tell her husband that their son was sick and in the hospital.” He raked his hand through his hair as he matched his brother’s position. “Gordon didn’t ask too many questions after that and they left this afternoon.”

“All right, good.” Dean pushed out of the chair and paced before the fireplace, Sam’s eyes tracking his movement. “Get Shurley on the phone. Cas is busy and I can only hope that means he’s found Gabriel.”

Sam lifted his hips from the couch and pulled his phone free from his jeans, pressing a few buttons on the screen before pressing the phone against his ear. “Chuck? Everything ready to go?” Sam paused and Dean turned back to watch his brother. “Okay… Are we ready…?” Sam let the question trail and glanced up to meet his brother’s eyes.

“Blow it up,” Dean answered and Sam smiled, nodding as he gave the command to Shurley. The brother’s let silence fall over them again and then suddenly the entire house was shaking, glass from various cabinets, liquor bottles, china, were clinking. Dean was almost knocked off balance and reached for the mantle of the fireplace, his eyes widening as he stared at Sam.

“I hope you got the hell out of there,” Sam said to the phone and then nodded, as if Chuck could see him. “See you soon, man.”

Dean motioned for Sam to follow him as he left the sitting area and searched the rest of the bottom floor for a living room. He found a large flat screen television with a large, plush couch set before it and he reached for the remote as he threw himself down, mentally sending up a prayer that Cas wouldn’t have some complicated fucking TV.

When the television turned on, it was already set to NYC-TV.

_“This is Laura Berkley and we are getting reports that just minutes ago there was an explosion in one of the larger warehouses at the Venice Marina in Brighton Beach. There are multiple calls coming in from homeowners and beach goers around the area that felt the aftershocks from the blast. Our own David Newton was in the area covering another story and is on scene.” The camera cut to another location. “David, when you say exploded do you mean --”_

_“Yes, Laura, I mean exploded! As you well know, we are here at Kingsborough Community College this afternoon and you can see,” he turned his back to the camera and pointed behind him, “You can see right across here, this is Sheepshead Bay, the dark plumes of smoke from a warehouse – Laura, the blast took nearly everyone off their feet.”_

The footage cut from the reporter and zoomed in on a large, black smoke cloud. Dean leaned closer to the TV, squinting, and could just make out bright white ash floating up into the air before it cut back to David Newton.

_“The campus has gone into lockdown and if you look closely, you can see first responders have now arrived at the scene. I’m not sure what was being stored in that warehouse Laura, but it sure wasn’t fireproof!”_

_“So scary, I’m glad you’re safe David! We will have updates on the warehouse explosion as we get them. Stay tuned, this is ABC7 with your Eyewitness News!”_

Dean clicked the TV off and turned his head to look at his brother. “They’re going to think this was a terrorist attack,” Dean sighed, leaning back into the couch.

Sam shrugged his shoulders and followed suit. “Well, you and I trained Chuck personally. So hopefully they left no trace.” Sam paused and then added, “Plus, with the amount of illegal substances Bellucci had in that warehouse… Once they figure out who it belonged to, they’ll know. I don’t think Chuck remembered the amount of ammo they had in there, I doubt he meant for the warehouse to _actually_ explode.”

Dean nodded and then pulled out his phone. “I’m going to let Castiel know it’s taken care of, tell him to turn on the news if he can.”

Sam nodded and pushed off of the couch. “I’ll see if I can find something to eat and see where Bobby’s at with Gordon.”

Dean nodded and waited for his brother to leave the room before he called Castiel. It didn’t matter that Sammy _knew_ , he sure as hell didn’t want to flaunt… whatever the hell he and Castiel were. As he lifted the ringing phone to his ear he crossed his fingers that Castiel would actually answer.

When the phone clicked over to voicemail, Dean sighed and prepared himself to leave a message. “Hey, it’s me. It’s done. I’m hoping that you found your brother… Call me back, keep me in the loop. Also, su casa is mi casa and Sam’s going to eat all your food.” Dean paused and cleared his throat. “Be safe.”

 

 

 

**Adirondack Health Emergency Center - Emergency Room | Church Street | Lake Placid, New York**

 

Castiel sighed, leaning forward to let his head fall into his hands. It had been a ten minute drive to the emergency center, and in that time Gabriel’s breathing had slowed to six breaths a minute and Castiel feared that his brother would be dead upon arrival. Rufus had stopped the car on the walkway to the entrance of the hospital and without Castiel’s prompting, had run inside to alert the staff that they needed assistance.

They came out with a gurney, strapped a plastic board to Gabriel’s back, and immediately hooked him up to oxygen. Castiel was sure he had never seen his brother look so pale… so small. Gabriel was the one with the most energy, a natural light shining from him, and to see him this way?

It had been four hours and Castiel had moved to six different chairs in the emergency room waiting area, snapped at four different nurses, and still knew nothing about his brother’s condition other than, “it’s serious” and “we will let you know soon, Mr. Krushnic.”

“Castiel.” Rufus’ low voice had Castiel’s head snapping up and the older man motioned ahead of them to where a tall Omega was standing. Castiel recognized him as the Doctor who had asked him about medications Gabriel might be on and he jumped to his feet.

“Doctor! Gabriel… is he…?”

“Why don’t we speak outside of the waiting room, Mr. Krushnic.” The doctor gave him a smile, most likely trying to be understanding, supportive, but Castiel wanted to draw his gun and shoot him between the eyes. “Will your partner be joining us?”

Castiel threw a look over his shoulder at Rufus and then shook his head.

“No, this is family.”

“Follow me.”

Castiel followed the man down a hallway to a small conference room. It looked cheery, the walls painted bright and the chairs looked comfortable, but all Castiel could smell was stress and grief. It put him on edge.

“Doctor, my brother… _please_.”

“Your brother is going to live, Mr. Krushnic.” Castiel let out a sigh of relief and fell into one of the chairs. “But he is in for a very long recovery.”

“He is strong, he can do it,” Castiel assured him, shoving a hand back through his hair and tugging at the roots. Gabriel was alive. He was alive! He looked at the name badge dangling from the doctor’s jacket, “Dr. Waterberg, what… what are his injuries?”

“Well, Gabriel had multiple contusions and lacerations to his chest, head, back and shoulders. I applied fourteen stitches to the head wound and he is lucky it was superficial. From the CT scan, we saw that his left hand has been shattered and I have sent for an ortho consult. Currently, we have his hand set in a simple plaster cast so that he doesn’t move his wrist or fingers. His right shoulder had been dislocated and that has been set and immobilized for the time being. He has a few broken ribs, a broken clavicle, and a shattered zygomatic bone.”

“His… what?” Castiel looked at the doctor in confusion as he tried to process all of the Gabriel’s injuries. He knew that it would be bad, could see that his brother had the ever living hell beaten out of him, and yet…

“His collar bone and cheekbone,” the doctor answered, giving Castiel a small smile. “I’m sure you saw the swelling on his right eye.” Castiel nodded. “He is lucky,” Dr. Waterberg continued, “that no bone fragments traveled upwards. He should have no issues with his vision once the swelling goes down.”

“Okay,” Castiel breathed out softly, nodding his head. “But… there was blood. A lot of blood.”

“Yes… The injuries that I’ve described so far, while painful, are the least of your brother’s problems. Gabriel was,” the doctor’s brows rose slightly, “quite literally stabbed in the back. The instrument used, based on the injuries, was a sharp object, most likely a knife. The cut is relatively clean. However, it cut into his spinal cord. Luckily the injury was incomplete, meaning it did not sever the cord completely. The injury is at the T4-T5 level.”

Castiel shook his head slowly, the movement increasing in speed as he realized what the doctor was telling him. “No… no, Gabriel can’t… If he can’t _walk_ he will--”

“Mr. Krushnic,” the doctor interrupted, reaching across the table to grab Castiel’s arm, effectively silencing him. “Gabriel has yet to wake up, his body is still in shock, but until then we should not make any assumptions. I am telling you that spinal injuries are not good, but it does not mean Gabriel will never walk again. If that is the case, we have plenty of groups and rehabilitation programs that can assist him in living a… normal life.”

Castiel looked up and met the doctor's eyes, knowing the man knew that whatever type of life the two brothers led, it was nothing compared to ‘normal’.

“Spinal injuries take time to heal, hard work, and he is going to need support from his family if he has any chance of walking out of this hospital.”

Castiel nodded slowly, swallowing hard before he asked, “Is that everything?”

“We have started him on a prophylactic antibiotic and anticoagulant. His respirations have increased, so we were able to start a morphine drip for the pain. Unfortunately,” Dr. Waterberg grimaced, “your brother will probably still wake up in pain. As of right now,” he looked steadily at Castiel, “we can only assume that he has musculoskeletal pain from his injuries, and we won’t know about any neuropathic pain until he can communicate that with us.”

“I don’t understand,” Castiel’s voice came out in almost a whisper. “What is the difference? Pain is pain.”

Dr. Waterberg nodded and explained, “While that is true, neuropathic pain is directly related to damaged nerve endings. Something between the nerve endings and the brain isn’t communicating accurately, and therefore, the pain can be different than our ‘normal’ run of the mill pain. It can be treated differently as well, but Gabriel will have to be awake to communicate his pain with us. Gabriel’s musculoskeletal pain is directly related to his injuries, relates to his muscles and bones healing from the ordeal his body went through.” He paused and gave Castiel what was supposed to be a comforting smile. “Don’t worry, Mr. Krushnic. We know how to treat both kinds of pain and will make sure your brother is as comfortable as he can be.”

Castiel stood and swallowed to wet a suddenly dry throat. “Can I see him?”

The doctor nodded as he stood up. “Of course. Just understand that we have him heavily sedated and he will most likely sleep the rest of the day but you are more than welcome to sit with him. Please,” he walked toward the door, “don’t hesitate to ask one of the nurses to page me with any questions.”

“How long will my brother be here?” Castiel finally found his voice as he followed the doctor out of the meeting room. “When can I take him home?”

“I will send some material down about his injury and some options for rehabilitation.” Dr. Waterberg reached out and gave the Pakhan a comforting clap on the shoulder. “Just… remember that this is extremely early on the long road ahead for him. Optimism, Mr. Krushnic, is what will get your brother through.”

Castiel was given quick instructions to Gabriel’s room and then walked back out to the waiting room. He nodded farewell to the doctor before making his way over to Rufus. “Thank you for your help today. I'm going to stay here with Gabriel. You can take my Expedition and go back to the city, back to your men.”

Rufus stood and shook his head. ‘No can do, Pakhan. Where you go, I go.”

Castiel raised a tired brow. “I can take care of myself and you have men to get back to.”

“And,” Rufus gave the younger man a wry smile, “with all due respect, Pakhan? I have my orders from my Don and they are to stay with you.” He looked appraisingly at the young Pakhan. “After what went down with your brother, it would be irresponsible of me to leave you with no protection. I do not believe it wise to call any of your own men here.”

Castiel’s eyes narrowed but he had no chance to protest.

“Look,” Rufus moved toward Castiel, “I know you can take care of yourself. But, how can you sit with your brother, be there for him, and keep watch for you _both_?”

Castiel let out a long sigh, clicking his tongue. “Yes, Rufus. You are right.” He swallowed hard and looked away from the other man. “Thank you,” he added in a whisper.

Rufus nodded toward the main hall. “Let’s go see your brother,” he took out his phone, “I’m going to update Dean and get some reinforcements.”

Once they reached the room, Rufus gave Castiel a tight nod as he leaned against the wall to the left of the door, giving the Pakhan the privacy he needed to see his brother for the first time. As he entered, Castiel was met with the sounds of machines beeping, too loud in the quiet room. Castiel sank down in the seat next to his brother and sighed. “Whatever the damage is, you are the strongest person I know _brat_. If anyone can overcome this? It's you.”

He sat in silence for what felt like hours, watching the various monitors surrounding Gabriel’s bed. Then he felt his phone vibrate and he reached into his pocket, pulling it out. He had three missed calls and a voicemail, all of them from Dean. He listened to the voicemail and then pressed the call back button.

 _“Cas,”_ Dean sighed and Castiel could hear the relief in his voice.

“Hello, Dean. I assume, judging by your voicemail about Sam eating all my food, that you got my message. You and Sam didn't go to the club?”

_“Yeah, Cas, I got your message. We came straight to your house when we arrived. Did you find Gabriel?”_

Castiel took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he sat back in his seat. “Yeah we found him.”

 _“Cas… Was--”_ Dean paused, unsure how to continue.

“He is alive… but barely,” Castiel answered Dean’s unasked question. “Rufus drove us to the nearest hospital. He's got a long road to recovery ahead of him but if anyone can come through this stronger, it's him... Thank you for sending Rufus with me. I don't think I could have gotten Gabriel to the hospital in time if I had gone alone. You were right about him, Dean. He is a good man.”

 _“I'm glad Gabriel is alive, Cas. We will find out who did this,”_ Dean replied.

“I know who did it. Gabriel was conscious when we found him and he gave me the name of the man that orchestrated it. It was Lucifer,” Castiel growled, “my so called ‘brother’.”

 _“Lucifer? As in your **actual** brother Lucifer?”_ Castiel could hear the shock in Dean's voice.

“Yes, Lucifer is in with Bellucci. He wants to take me down and become Pakhan. He kidnapped Gabriel to get him on his side.” He let out a long sigh. “Lucifer isn’t stupid, Dean. He knows that I let my guard down around Gabriel and he intended to take advantage of that. Once he realized that Gabriel would never turn on me, he– he,” Castiel felt his emotions rising to the surface and swallowed them back. “Dean he tortured him! Gabriel gave him nothing!”

 _“Oh, man,”_ Dean let out a muttered curse, _“I am so sorry…”_

“Gabriel would die to protect me and he almost did! Dean, God! My brother tortured my brother. He stabbed him, left him for dead. I don’t even know what to do with that!” Castiel reined himself in and sucked in a deep breath, “No,” his voice got quiet, “I know exactly what to do with that.”

 _“Gabriel is alive,”_ Dean soothed, _“Concentrate on that right now.”_

“I am,” Castiel said softly. “We… We were lucky we found him when we did. He wouldn't have lasted much longer.”

Castiel heard Dean let out a heavy breath before he asked, _“Where's Lucifer now?”_

Castiel sighed, letting his eyes fall closed. “I have no clue, Dean... but I will find him and he will pay.”

 _“I have no doubt. I’d do the same,”_ Dean paused and Castiel heard him talking softly to someone else. _“I’m sending a couple more guys,”_ he said coming back on the line.

“Okay,” Castiel conceded and looked up as Rufus moved into the doorway.

“I’m grabbing a change of clothes,” Rufus said as he grabbed the door handle. “Just… please stay in the room, Pakhan? Five minutes.”

Castiel rolled his eyes but nodded and watched as the older Alpha shut the room door with a soft click. A comfortable silence fell between him and Dean for a few minutes before Castiel spoke again. “So the warehouse… it's done?”

Dean huffed a small laugh. _“Yeah it's done, it rattled the ho--”_

The door to Gabriel’s room clicked opened and Castiel cut Dean off with a quick, “Hold on,” as he looked up to see who was entering. He blinked, confused as he recognized two men from his Bratva. “What are you two doing here? How did you know I --”

 

 

 

**Home of Pakhan Castiel Novak | Ocean Avenue | Brooklyn, New York**

 

“Cas? Who’s there?” Dean asked into the silent phone, confused when Castiel stopped mid-sentence. He pulled the phone back and glanced down at it, making sure he hadn’t been disconnected. The timer was still counting the minutes of the call and Dean pressed the phone back just in time to hear muffled voices before a soft, rapid popping sound.

“Cas! Castiel!? Are you still there? Who came in?” Dean felt his stomach flip. He was no stranger to that noise, he’d heard it enough, caused it enough, to be able to identify it immediately.

Someone was shooting a handgun with a silencer attached in Gabriel’s room. Dean felt all the blood drain from his face.

“Cas! God _dammit_ answer me!” Dean looked down at his phone once again and this time the call had been disconnected. He redialed Cas’ number, swearing when it went straight to voicemail.

“Shit, shit,” Dean murmured as he scrolled through his contacts and pressed call. “Rufus!” Dean exclaimed.

“Dammit I'm _old_ boy,” Rufus groused, “not deaf!”

“Where are you?” Dean yelled, ignoring Rufus’ complaint. “Why aren’t you with Castiel?”

“I'm in the parking garage. I told the Pakhan I was getting my ‘go’ bags.”

“Rufus. Listen carefully to me.” Dean’s voice dropped and he gripped the phone tightly, trying to ignore the way his fingers were shaking. “The Pakhan is in trouble. I was just on the phone with him before the call abruptly ended. But before it did, I heard two popping noises. It was a handgun equipped with a silencer, I'm _sure_ of it. I need you to go now, go help him,” Dean explained.

“I'm on it, Boss,” Rufus replied before he ended the phone call.

Dean exhaled slowly as he sank down into the couch behind him, glancing down at the dark screen of his phone as he did so. “Come on, Cas…” He sighed, pressing the home button to light up the screen, just in case he had missed a call. “Call me back! Just let me know you’re okay…”

Dean was met with silence and he was hit with the sudden urge to break something. He knew, could feel it in his gut… Castiel was in trouble. And there wasn’t a damn thing Dean could do about it.

“Fuck!” he roared, ripping the pillow from beside him away from the couch and flinging it across the room. It smacked against the curio cabinet and rattled the china inside. Two tea cups rattled their way right off of the shelf, shattering on the floor. Dean almost felt guilty, could almost feel how annoyed Castiel would be, and he craved it. He wished Castiel was there to yell at him, to force him to clean up the mess.

But Castiel wasn’t there. Dean wasn’t even sure Castiel was okay… He buried his head into his hands and flinched when the cushion beside him sank down. He hadn’t even known Sam was in the room with him… Sam was trying to pulse out waves of calm, of comfort, and Dean swallowed hard, letting himself sink into a moment of weakness where Sam could be the strong one for once.

 

 

 

**Adirondack Health Emergency Center - Room 128 | Church Street | Lake Placid, New York**

 

Rufus jogged through the parking garage and slowed to a brisk walk upon entering the hospital as to not draw any unwanted attention to himself. He strode up to the receptionist desk and flashed a smile at the nurse on his way by. She smiled back at him and he continued to the elevator, punching the ‘B’ button.

Stepping into the hallway, it was surprisingly quiet. Rufus looked to his left and then right, making sure no one was around before he pulled his gun out. Then he made his way to Gabriel’s door. He stood slightly to the side before he shoved it open and ducked into the room, gun pointed and ready to fire.

In the center of the room, Castiel was fighting with a man who was struggling to angle the gun in his hand towards Castiel’s head. Rufus surveyed the rest of the room quickly; Gabriel was lying, possibly comatose, in the bed and there was a body lying on the floor at the base of the bed, his neck twisted at an unnatural angle. Castiel had clearly been able to take the first man down by breaking his neck before he was jumped by the gunman.

Near Rufus’ feet was a gun with a silencer, most likely having skid away from the dead man’s body when he hit the floor, and he reached down to grab it after holstering his own, knowing his would be too loud. Looking back at the fight, he saw Castiel's back was to him, unfortunately blocking the other man's body so he couldn't take the shot.

“Pakhan!” Rufus barked, “Get out of the way!”

The man that Castiel was struggling with seemed to just notice they had company. He shoved Castiel out of the way and charged Rufus, slamming him against the wall and knocking the borrowed gun from his hand. He began to punch Rufus in the side with his free hand, raising the gun towards Rufus’ skull. Rufus’ hand shot up, wrapping around the man’s wrist and twisting to try and free the gun.

Castiel righted himself and strode over to them. Rufus glanced down and watched Castiel’s arm hook around the man’s throat, effectively pulling him off. In one fluid movement he snapped the man’s neck and released his hold, letting the corpse crumple to the floor. Rufus clutched at his sides and tried to catch his breath.

“Do you know,” Rufus rasped, “these men?”

Castiel bent down and patted the bodies down. “I did. Samandriel and Ion Nozdrin. They are members of my Elite Bratva, clearly in league with my brother Lucifer. It was bad enough knowing he had turned on me, but now this? Men I have trusted my whole life, men I would have given my life for, my own family, my flesh and blood.”

Castiel pulled a cell phone from Ion’s pocket and opened it. He read the last message out loud: “ _Kill them both, don't disappoint me_.”

Rufus sighed, shaking his head. “Do you know who it’s from?”

Castiel was silent for a moment before he shook his head. “No… it’s a New York number, but not one I know. I am assuming it’s from my brother.”

“You need to go on the run, Pakhan… Lie low for awhile until you know who you can trust.”

Castiel nodded, glancing over at Gabriel. “I agree, but I don't know where to go. Home is out of the question, so is the property up north. Gabriel isn’t safe either...”

“I...” Rufus started then paused, thinking over what he was going to say next. “I know a place where no one will find you. It's a hunting cabin Bobby and I own, it's off the grid. You’ll be safe there. It's about a two hour drive.”

Castiel nodded absently, eyes still locked on his brother lying in the bed. “I can't leave Gabriel here, they will come back for him. Once Samandriel and Ion haven't checked in, I'm sure Lucifer will dispatch someone else.”

Rufus shook his head. “I wouldn't expect you to leave your brother. You need to go and speak to his doctor, tell him you want him transferred to Porter Medical Center in Vermont. It's the closest hospital to the cabin… Go, now. We need to get out of here as soon as possible.”

Castiel pointed to the bodies on the floor. “What are we going to do about them?”

Rufus furrowed his brows as he stared at the bodies, thinking over their options. He looked up Castiel. “Go work on getting your brother transferred and I’ll take care of the trash.”

Castiel nodded, giving Rufus a grateful smile, and left the room. Rufus sighed, looked down at the bodies and mumbled, “I'm going to need a gurney.”

 

Castiel sighed as he made his way back to Gabriel’s room. He had fought with the nurses for over an hour, trying to stress that he needed Gabriel to be transferred immediately to another hospital. They had made their notes, gotten permission from the doctor saying that Gabriel was medically stable for transportation, but the rest was a waiting game.

The hospitalist at Porter Medical Center would have to accept Gabriel, for one, though each of the nurses he spoke to assured Castiel that there was no reason why they wouldn’t. They just had to make sure that there was a bed ready. The bottom line was that nothing was going to happen until the morning, no matter how frustrated Castiel became.

“He’s fine for tonight. Get some sleep, Mr. Krushnic! We will get things started first thing in the morning.” The nurse had smiled, patted his arm, and Castiel had to remind himself that shooting her wasn’t going to get him very far.

The only thing he managed to get accomplished that evening was making Gabriel a ‘Privacy Patient’ and getting him a different room. No one, other than Castiel and Rufus were allowed to know Gabriel was even still a patient there. His name would be removed from their census, from outside of the door, no one could call and ask to speak to them. It was the best security Castiel could come up with for his limited resources.

Castiel dropped down into the chair in Gabriel’s new room and looked up as Rufus entered, shutting the door behind him and leaning against it. “Did you take care of the bodies?”

“In the morgue,” Rufus grunted as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Castiel furrowed his brows. “How the hell did you manage that?”

Rufus scoffed and shook his head. “I have my ways, Pakhan. I have been in this business since before you were born.”

Castiel laughed before he cleared his throat and got back to business. “They can't transfer Gabriel until tomorrow, I am hoping he will be safe until then.” Castiel patted at his pockets and sighed, frustrated. “Did you happen to see my phone while you were cleaning up the room? I dropped it when I was attacked.”

“Yeah,” Rufus replied. “It got busted. Most likely stepped on... I disposed of it.”

Castiel sighed and let his head drop down into his hands, trying to get himself comfortable. He could hear Rufus shifting by the door and without saying it out loud, Castiel knew he was going to take the first shift.

The night passed slowly, but thankfully with no other problems. It was only a couple hours later that Rufus’s phone let out a soft beep. Castiel saw him speak softly into it and when he looked up he unnecessarily whispered, “My guys are here.”

Castiel’s brows shot up softly. “What if…”

“They won’t be seen,” Rufus reassured him, “they’re not on the floor, they’re in the garages and on the street. We’re on our own in here, but it’s gonna be tough to get passed them.”

Castiel nodded and settled in for the night. He started talking to the day shift as soon as they got there at seven o’clock and they were loading Gabriel into the ambulance to be transferred before noon. It was a good sign when Gabriel had woken earlier in the morning before the doctor came in. Castiel quickly explained the situation to him. Before he could get into too much detail, the nurse had come in to do a full head to toe assessment and get the doctor for them.

Gabriel was sedated right before they left for the ride and Castiel made sure he and Rufus were behind the wheel, ready to follow the transport. As they edged onto the highway, Castiel remembered he had been on the phone with Dean when he’d been attacked.

“Can I borrow your phone to make a call to Don Winchester?”

Rufus nodded and pulled his phone from his pocket, glancing down at it quickly before he swore. “I’ll be damned...” The phone’s screen was spidered but more importantly it was nearly out of charge. “I should have gotten another one from one of my crew before I sent them off…” Castiel nodded, knowing Rufus had told his men to disperse. It had taken a bit of persuasion, but Castiel had, somehow, convinced Rufus to let their new location be between them and them alone. “I don’t think there’s enough charge in here to make a call.”

Castiel sighed and lay back against the cool leather seats. It was probably best if Dean didn’t know where they were either anyways. He reached down to hit the lever, lowering the seat back so he could stretch out. It felt good, it was hot in this damn car, and he said as much to Rufus.

“Shut your eyes and get some sleep, Pakhan,” Rufus shot back, turning the air up a notch and giving Castiel a strange look. “Freezing my balls off will keep me awake at least.”

Castiel snorted and let his eyes fall closed, focusing on the cool air and cool seat seeping into his skin. He bit back his comment of telling Rufus he was only cold because he was old. Wasn’t worth the fight.

 

 

 

**Rufus & Bobby’s Hunting Cabin | Quaker Village Road | Weybridge, Vermont**

 

It took the majority of the day to get Gabriel settled into the new hospital and for Rufus to show him around the town of Middlebury where the hospital was and around the town of Weybridge so he could get groceries and supplies for as long as he was at the cabin. It was past ten when they finally got to the cabin and all Castiel wanted to do was go to bed. He felt feverish, his skin was crawling, and his body ached. He was sure he was coming down with something, probably picked it up at the hospital, and that was absolutely the last thing he needed right now.

Rufus went out to get them something quick for dinner, deciding it was best if he stayed the night since it was already so late, before going back to New York in the morning. Rufus paced the kitchen while he stressed out about Castiel changing his mind about calling Dean and updating him.

“He’s going to kill me, Pakhan,” Rufus sighed as he slipped into one of the dining room chairs as Castiel set the table with some paper plates he’d found.

“I will extend my protection over you, Rufus,” Castiel smiled at him. “Plus, we both know I would’ve shot you if you called him.”

Rufus glared at him and for the rest of the meal, they were silent, Rufus casting wary glances at Castiel. Finally, he broke and asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah I'm fine,” Castiel replied not believing the words coming out of his own mouth, so he wasn’t sure how Rufus was supposed to. Eating had done nothing to help him feel better. If anything, he felt worse.

“You sure? Cause I gotta say, you are not looking so well.”

Castiel sighed. “I'm just tired, it’s been a long couple of days. I'm sure I will be fine after a good night’s sleep.”

Castiel finished off his food and bid Rufus good night before heading to the room Rufus had set up for him. As he sat down on the edge of the bed he was suddenly hit with the realization that not only did he not have a bag of clothes--which was honestly not _that_ big of a deal since there were stores close by-- but he didn't have his suppressants or scent blockers either. Unfortunately, that meant he would have to make a doctor's appointment with someone in town using his fake ID and hope no one managed to recognize him. And he would need to do that as soon as possible.

He sighed, stripping out of all of his clothes before crawling underneath the covers. He still felt hot, shaky, and it wasn’t long before he kicked off everything except for the thin cotton sheet. Finally, sleep came to him and Castiel was grateful for the escape it provided.

As the morning sun streamed in through the window and onto Castiel’s skin, he felt hot. Too goddamn hot and he groaned as he rolled out of the bed, feeling a hundred times worse than he had the day before. Now not only was he feverish and achy, he was sweating and shaking. The flu. He had to be coming down with the flu... only that could make him feel this shitty.

He trudged into the living room trying not to let his appearance give away how he felt. But clearly he wasn't fooling Rufus. The older Alpha’s brows rose when he saw Castiel. “You look horrible, Pakhan… Are you sure you will be fine alone?”

Castiel sat down on the couch with a plop, biting back the groan as his knees popped. “You have been gone two days with barely checking in. You have men to lead and I'm sure Don Winchester is worried about your well-being.” He paused, both of them knowing the Don would be pissed at the radio silence. “I will be fine, go.”

“I will take your Expedition back and park it at your house. Keys to my truck are hanging by the garage door. Feel free to use it as much as you need.”

“The large silver key is the house key,” Castiel offered, leaning his head back into the couch. “And the code is 391059 to turn off the system.”

Rufus nodded, grunting his response to let Castiel know he’d heard him as grabbed his wallet and the keys to the vehicle before he started for the door.

“Thank you,” Castiel stated sincerely.

Rufus nodded and walked out the door.


	6. Caged Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Russian Glossary Chapter Five**  
>  _Blyad_ \- Fuck  
>  _Da, da, zavyazhi menya, sdelay menya svoim_ \- Yes, yes knot me make me yours.  
>  _Da, spasibo_ \- Yes, thank you  
>  _moy ideal'nyy Al'fa_ \- My perfect Alpha  
>  _pozhaluysta_ \- Please  
>  _Vy chuvstvuyete kak nebo, Dean_ \- You feel like heaven, Dean.  
>  _Ya sobirayus' yezdit' vash petukh zhestkiy i bystryy, poka vy ne zavyazyvat' menya i nasos menya _polno prikhodyat__ \- I'm going to ride your cock hard and fast until you knot me and pump me full of come  
>  _Yebat’ da tak chertovski khorosho_ \- Fuck yes feels so fucking good

 

 

 

**_"A lie told often enough becomes the truth.” --Vladimir Lenin_ **

 

 

 

 

**Home of Pakhan Castiel Novak | Ocean Avenue | Brooklyn, New York**

 

“It’s been two _days_ , Sammy.” Dean shoved away the bowl of cereal his brother had placed in front of him on the table and dragged the oversized coffee cup to himself instead. As he wrapped his fingers around the mug he paused, his stomach twisting uncomfortably at the idea of putting anything in his mouth.

“Dean,” Sam sighed, staring at his brother from across the table as he picked at his own breakfast, “I talked to Jessica last night…”

Dean hummed a response, glancing up at Sam’s face. He knew Sam missed his mate and he felt slightly guilty that he had demanded Sam stay in New York with him while they figured out the mess they were in with Castiel being MIA now.

Sam was chewing on his lower lip and leaned back in the chair, running both of his hands through his hair.

“You haven’t slept in two days,” he said.

Dean snorted, turning his eyes away from Sam and back to his coffee.

“You haven’t eaten! Dean, you pace this house and Castiel’s room, checking your phone like it’s going to magically tell you something and…” As Sam trailed off Dean looked back up and saw he was back to pulling at his hair, something he only did when he was really upset or frustrated.

“Just fucking spit it out Sammy!” Dean growled at him finally when the silence became too thick in the air. He could almost taste how uncomfortable Sam was, the scent of his distress crowding over the lingering orange scent of Castiel. “You think I should go back to Boston, right? Should actually do something now that we’ve forced Bellucci to take a knee? Should I gather our troops and Castiel’s and hit him again? What is it that you think I should do right now, huh? Because from where I am sitting, we haven’t heard _anything_ from Bobby about Gordon, there’s a leak in both our family and the Bratva, and their Pakhan hasn’t been heard from in fucking _days!_ So please, enlighten me to what you think--”

“Can you smell him, Dean? Can you smell Castiel right now?” Sam interrupted, throwing Dean off guard.

“ _What?_ What the hell does that have to do with anything, Sam! Of course I can fucking smell him! This is his _house_! He’s in every single--”

“That… fake shit, the spruce scent, I stopped smelling yesterday afternoon. I know that it’s a fabricated scent but it’s high quality, has fooled his family for years. I would assume that it almost… piggybacks on his natural scent.”

Dean stared at Sam, his mouth slightly open. His brother had gone insane, truly insane. What the ever living fuck did it matter if Castiel could still be scented in his home? The Omega was probably hurt, bleeding out, running for his life…

“Please don’t be mad.”

“Jesus Christ Sam… I hate when you say that.”

Dean clenched his fists, preparing himself for whatever was going to come out of Sam’s mouth next. If anyone could push his buttons, even at his calmest, it was his brother. Now, with how on edge he was feeling… Dean reached down to grip the seat cushion, just in case Sam’s next words made him see red.

“I… I told Jess. About you and about Castiel…”

“Are you trying to get him killed?” Dean roared and Sam, to his credit, barely flinched.

“And Jess brought up a really good point…” Sam pressed on, eyes fixed on the table in front of him for a moment before he met his brother’s eyes. “No one, _ever_ , in Castiel’s life has been able to scent him through the cologne. Hell, Dean… since we’ve gotten here I’ve been trying to scent him, his true scent. I tried to get any hints of the medicinal scent you described, tried to differentiate it from Gabriel’s scent or another one of his brothers, and I couldn’t. Not even from his bedroom! Castiel’s scent to me is pure, strong spruce, and a hundred percent Alpha. But you… you could scent him right away, can still scent him now, and I think if you really think hard on it, you can scent something else on him too.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean, Sammy?” Dean shook his head, gripping the seat tighter. “Maybe I just have better senses than you. I wasn’t expecting him to _be_ an Alpha when we met. He was a hot guy at the bar and I was hoping he was an option for the night. I was--”

“You were scenting your mate.”

Silence fell between them and Dean could feel his eyes widening, a strange sense of panic washing over him. He felt the chill as it spread through his body, starting from his fingers and toes until he was light headed with it.

“Excuse me?” Dean whispered, swallowing hard and forcing himself to stay straight, to have his eyes locked on Sam’s calm hazel ones. “What the hell did you just say?”

“You can scent him, have always been able to scent him, because he’s your mate. And I think,” Sam leaned toward his brother, “Dean, I think that maybe he’s your true mate.”

Sam immediately held up his hands to forestall his brother’s protest. “Hear me out. Since we met with the Bratva… you’ve been kind of… _entranced_ by Castiel’s presence. You’re going out of your way to be present in going up against Bellucci, despite the fact that we have Capos and Soldiers to do some of the jobs that _we’ve_ been doing.” Sam looked quizzically at his brother, pausing for a heartbeat before he continued, “We _have_ allied before, Dean, and _never_ have we traveled so much into our ally’s territory, been welcome into their homes, talked with them or had a relationship other than emails and business.”

“Sam,” Dean let out a pained sigh, “I told you, it’s not-”

“It is,” Sam interrupted, “Castiel has been different for you since that first meeting. From what you’ve described… it seems like you’re drawn to him. And I get that!” Sam’s enthusiasm bubbled over and he sat forward in his chair. “I was to Jess!! I was still seeing Ruby off and on before I met her, and once I did… Dean,” he shook his head, “there was no one else in the world that I wanted to see more, or hear more, or _be_ with more. And I know his situation, but you can’t… change that, Dean! It’s biology, a higher power, whatever it is.”

“Listen to me very closely Sam,” Dean kept his voice calm and precise, meeting his brother’s eyes across the table, “Just because you found your true mate, doesn’t mean that everyone is suddenly going to get that fucking lucky, okay?” He gave his brother a small smile. “Look, man, I’m happy for you, I’m _thrilled_ , and I can’t wait to meet Jessica and see your pups and watch our family grow. But Castiel Krushnic is _not_ my true mate. He’s not _anything_ to me except for a business partner, perhaps a friend.”

Sam nodded slowly and waited a moment before asking, “Have the dreams started?” He crossed his arms over his chest and waited for his brother to answer.

Dean stiffened and Sam suddenly slammed his hands down on the table, pushing himself up to full height as he leaned over the hard wood and into Dean’s space. “Have they? Can you smell him no matter where you are? Find yourself picturing fucking ridiculous sappy ass shit that you never imagined you would? Are you panicking inside, wondering if he could be dead, Dean? Wondering if he’s not contacting you because he’s hurt? Because that’s what it feels like to _care_ about someone. Or maybe he’s found another Alpha. A stronger Alpha, one that isn’t afraid to admit what’s fucking in front of his goddamn face--”

Neither one of them expected the hit, but suddenly Dean was on his feet and Sam was slammed back into the wall, his left cheek split and his blood marking his brother’s hands. Dean was breathing hard, his fist still clenched and held before him, staring down at his brother’s body.

Sam’s eyes widened and he lifted his own fingers, wincing as he pressed against his cheekbone. Dean’s nostrils flared but there was no scent of fear on the air. Only the acrid stench of his own guilt and anger. Dean swallowed hard, finally dropping his fist.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that again, Sam. You are my blood and my family, but you would do well to remember that I am not only your brother.”

Sam held his gaze as he gripped the table and hauled himself back up, straightening out his clothes and wiping his blood off on his jeans.

“Yes, Don Winchester,” Sam replied, giving his head a slight bow as he grabbed his cereal bowl and coffee cup, depositing both into the sink.

Dean stayed still, his back to Sam, and listened as he moved around the kitchen, cleaning up their breakfast, and then moved to the doorway. “I apologize for overstepping my boundaries as your Underboss, but as your brother? I will say that you are being callous and foolish.”

Dean turned to face him but Sam was gone, leaving him standing alone in the kitchen with his soggy cereal bowl and cold cup of coffee. Dean reached for the back of the chair, gripping it hard as his entire body started to shake. Sam was wrong, no matter _how_ determined he was to pick up ridiculous clues. He was on cloud nine from finding his mate, and Dean couldn’t blame him… not really.

Since they were children there were two things they wanted. First, to take over the family business, make their father proud, and second, to find their true mates, just like in the fairy tales their mom used to read them.

He glanced down at his right hand, moving his wrist so Sam’s drying blood glinted in the overhead light.

“Fuck,” Dean whispered, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. He should not have hit his brother. Real shitty way to show leadership. He could see John’s face, the disappointment in his eyes, and Dean tore himself away from the table and stalked around the island to the sink.

He shoved his hands under the spray of hot water, scrubbing at his skin with his nails until he had thick, red gouges marking up the back of his hands and wrists. He let his arms fall limp, letting the heat from the water burn the marks until he was numb.

Dean didn’t know how long he stood there, trying to block out every fear that Sam had brought up -- What if Castiel _was_ dead? What if he _was_ lying somewhere, bleeding out and alone?

The water was like ice when he finally reached up with stiff fingers to turn the faucet off. The house was silent and for a moment, Dean considered heading upstairs to see what Sam was doing, maybe even apologize…

The sound of car tires slowly rolling outside of the house made Dean stop in his tracks and he immediately went to his gun tucked in the back of his jeans and slipped from the kitchen into the living room. The windows in here were large, too large for Dean to peak out of without being noticed, and he swore under his breath before he made his way through the house to the large mud room by the front door.

The door would be locked, of course, the alarm set, but if someone was showing up here, wondering if they’d gotten the job done when they shot at Castiel --because Dean refused to believe that the Pakhan was dead-- then a stupid alarm or the threat of police showing up would do nothing to stop them. He shrank back against the wall and glanced to the right when he heard the creak of the stairs. Sam met his eyes, gun at the ready and nodded once to let Dean know he had his back.

They listened to the slam of a car door, then heavy footsteps as someone approached the door. Dean held his breath, his thumb automatically sliding over the safety and his index finger resting against the trigger. The footsteps stopped, then there was the sound of a key sliding into the lock. Dean glanced over to Sam who shrugged, his eyes flashing back through the doorway when the door was shoved open.

The alarm started but was quickly silenced as the man behind the door punched in the correct code. Dean scented the air, hope bubbling in the center of his chest. He could smell Castiel faintly, and that was all it took for him to raise his gun and step into the room, aiming it at the face of the intruder.

“Fuck boy, what did your father tell you about playing with firearms? Put that shit down!” Rufus yelled at him, kicking the front door shut as he tossed a bundle of keys onto the counter by the door. “Take someone’s eye out that way…”

“Rufus?” Dean immediately dropped his gun down, clicking on the safety. “Where’s Castiel?”

Rufus glanced up at Dean, then over his shoulder to where Sam had come into view. “We alone?” Dean felt his stomach drop for what seemed like the hundredth time today. “I mean, none of Castiel’s family is here?”

“No,” Sam answered for him and Dean watched as his brother put away his own gun and led Rufus through Castiel’s house to the living area. Dean followed and felt his skin start to crawl. He could smell Castiel on Rufus’ skin... could smell that his Omega was stressed, panicked, upset.

Dean stopped short in the hallway. _His_ Omega? Where the fuck did that come from? He felt the panic starting again, deep in the pit of his stomach, and he forced himself to walk forward and join his brother and Rufus.

“Where is Castiel?” Dean demanded again, cutting off whatever Rufus had been saying to Sam the moment he was in the room. “I can scent him on you, Rufus. He’s stressed and panicking. What the fuck happened up there? I heard gunshots on his end and you went to help him and then nothing! Neither one of you decided to call me back and let me know you weren’t dead?”

Sam’s hand on his shoulder made Dean realize he’d stepped into Rufus’ space, inches from the older man’s face, and his voice had risen with each word. Rufus raised an eyebrow but surprisingly knew not to come back with a snarky response.

“Both of our phones were destroyed in the altercation. I was barely able to get in touch with my crew,” he started, calmly, his eyes locked with his Boss’. “Two men assaulted Castiel and Gabriel in the hospital with the intention of taking them both out. Castiel took down one on his own and we struggled with the second until the Pakhan ended his life as well. Both Castiel and Gabriel were unharmed. From… that attack, anyway. Gabriel is not doing so well. I don’t know how much the Pakhan filled you in on, but his brother looks like shit and will be spending a lot of time at Porter.”

“Porter… That’s the hosp-” Sam started and Rufus silenced him with a look.

“Exactly. You know where it’s at so we don’t need to be shoutin’ it to the world.” Rufus looked between the two brothers before returning his gaze back to Dean. “The Pakhan ain’t hurt… but he sure as hell isn’t doing so hot.”

“What does that mean?” Dean stepped forward once more.

“His brother’s on his deathbed,” Rufus continued keeping his voice calm, “and the oldest, Lucifer, is setting out to kill him. He’s the one who beat the hell out of Gabriel and sent men after the pair of them.” Rufus rubbed at tired eyes as Dean’s face darkened. “It’s why I suggested getting out of New York, going somewhere safe and secluded where only the best of the best know the location. The Pakhan’s worried about his brother, and he seems to be comin’ down with something… I don’t know…” Rufus bit his lower lip and Dean glanced at Sam. He’d never seen the older man look so unsure before.

“Comin’ down with something... Do you mean the flu? A cold?” Sam’s questions reeked of anxiety. Rufus blew out a sharp breath, shaking his head.

“That’s what he was saying, but if I didn’t know any better…” Rufus trailed off and shook his head. “It was a busy two days and I need some goddamn sleep boys.”

“Rufus,” Dean’s voice was sharp and stopped the Alpha from leaving the room. “If you didn’t know better… what?”

“If I didn’t know better,” Rufus repeated, staring straight into Dean’s eyes, “Then I would say the Pakhan was startin’ to go into heat.”

Dean heard Sam’s sharp intake of breath and he stood frozen for a moment before he stepped forward, grabbing the front of Rufus’ shirt and breathing in deeply. He ignored the protest coming from the man, wrinkled his nose at the sharp hickory scent of Rufus, and smelled it.

“Cinnamon, Sammy. I can smell cinnamon.” Dean released Rufus and stumbled back, turning to face his brother with wide eyes. The heat, the spice he could always smell with the orange blossoms… it was cinnamon!

Sam was suddenly there, ripping Dean’s arm up and pressing his nose against the inside of his wrist. When Sam’s eyes widened, too, Dean knew.

“Go to him, Dean. _Now._ ”

Dean flung himself from the room and up the stairs, barely hearing Rufus’ ‘What the hell is goin’ on here’ and not caring for Sam’s response. Dean had a mate. A true mate. And he was hurting, in pain, and starting his fucking _heat._

He found a large duffel bag beneath Castiel’s bed and he dragged it out, yanking open the drawers on the large dresser and grabbing handfuls of clothes to dump into the bag. He knew the cabin was usually stocked full of toiletries, so he avoided the bathroom and dumped his own small bag of clothes into the larger bag before zipping it up and starting back down the stairs.

“I’ll… call you,” Dean said as he passed back through the living room, glancing at Sam who was probably explaining as little as he possibly could get away with to Rufus. Right now, Dean couldn’t think about the consequences of people finding out, of Dean and Castiel actually mating. He didn’t even know if the Pakhan would accept a bond from him and his heart twisted at the thought of being rejected.

“Sammy?” he called from the mud room, reaching for the door. Sam appeared, looking at Dean like he was crazy for still standing there. “I… I’m just…”

“Dean, I know.” Sam smiled at him and Dean winced as he watched the puffy, bruised skin on his cheek pull with the motion. Yeah, he had a lot of ass kissing to do. “Just go,” Sam waved him off, “be with your mate.” 

Dean nodded, not having to be told twice, and headed straight for the Impala. “Hold on Cas,” he whispered to himself as he started up the ignition. “I’m coming.”

 

 

 

 

**Rufus & Bobby’s Hunting Cabin | Quaker Village Road | Weybridge, Vermont**

 

 

As the day progressed, so did Castiel's symptoms.

It had started getting worse after Rufus left, so he’d taken his time in the shower, hoping that the cool water would lower his temperature enough to break this damn fever. He stayed under the cool spray until every one of his fingertips and toes were pruned and then had to drag himself out. He had found an old pair of sweatpants deep in the back of one of the dressers; he didn’t know if they belonged to Bobby or Rufus, but they fit him well enough. His body was sore, stiff, and he found himself breathing hard by the time he finished drying off and pulling sweat pants on. He let the shirt he’d brought into the bathroom slip through his fingers -- he was too damn hot for a full set of clothing anyways.

Castiel tried to fix himself something to eat from the meager supplies in the cabinets, but after two bites of the soup he found himself nauseous and running for the garbage can. He didn’t have time to be sick! He had fully intended on making his way over to the hospital that day to see Gabriel, but the thought of giving his brother whatever illness he’d picked up made his stomach clench and he stayed put. Gabriel had enough on his plate without this too.

As the sun began to set, Castiel felt a million times worse. He collapsed onto the couch, sighing as the cool fabric pressed against his bare skin, and let his eyes fall closed. He felt exhausted, but somehow knew that no matter what he did, sleep would not come easily tonight. His skin felt like it was on fire, he ached down to his very core, and no matter how many fans he dragged out of the dusty crawl space, he was covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

He shifted, upset with himself for even getting into this position --Krusnics did _not_ get _sick_ \-- when he felt slick gush from his hole.

Castiel froze. His eyes widened as he scented the air and realized it was heavy with his scent, his _true_ scent. With a shaking hand he raised his arm and sniffed at his skin. There was no trace of the spruce left on him… only orange blossoms and spice and he gasped out loud as he realized what was happening.

This was not the flu.

The first thing Castiel felt was panic. He had never, not once in his entire life, been through a real heat before. He hadn’t even _been_ around any Omegas to know what to expect! He racked his brain, trying to remember what the hell they’d taught him in health class back in middle school, but he’d spent so many years denying his true gender, pretending he was an Alpha, he’d pushed off everything he’d been taught. He’d been on suppressants for twenty-three years, ever since he was eleven and his father had gotten him tested after falling ill and his true gender was revealed. He--

Castiel sat up straight, another wave of slick pulsing from his body, and he realized that he hadn’t taken his suppressants in four days. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he whispered, reaching up and dragging his hands through his hair, fisting and pulling at the strands. He couldn’t remember anything from health class, but Crowley’s warning when he was still a pup came back, clear as a bell.

_”Remember, Castiel. If you stop taking these, even if it’s just been a day, your body will be playing catch up with itself and you’ll find yourself a willing whore, presenting to any Alpha whose scent you catch.”_

Castiel’s stomach rolled and he honestly couldn’t tell if it was from not eating in almost twenty-four hours, the heat that was now wreaking havoc through his body, or fear. Before he could dwell on it, he heard the sound of a car pulling up in the driveway.

He shakily stood, ignoring the sticky wetness in his sweats, his legs almost giving out on him. Castiel reached for his gun on the coffee table and pitched forward, the only thing that kept him from falling face first was that he had managed to reach out just in time and grip the edge of the table. He wrapped his hand around the weapon and staggered over to the door, using various pieces of furniture to get himself there. He stood behind it, swallowing hard as he flicked off the safety and raised the gun.

In the condition he was in, the only way he would survive an altercation was to have the element of surprise and quickly put a bullet in the guy's skull. There was no way could he take anyone on in hand to hand combat.

The doorknob turned and Castiel cursed under his breath. What kind of idiot was he to not even lock the fucking door? But as it swung open, Castiel was hit with the most delicious scent--pine and cinnamon. He smirked as Dean took a step into the room. Castiel clicked the safety back on and raised the gun, pressing the cool metal to the back of Dean’s head. “You know, it's not very polite to come without calling first, Don Winchester.”

“Cas,” Dean breathed out, dropping the bag he was carrying onto the floor. The Alpha’s shoulders stiffened, and from behind him Castiel could see Dean scenting the air.

“Smell something you like, puppy?” Castiel rasped, his voice hoarse and needy.

Dean swallowed audibly, then slowly turned to face Castiel, his green eyes blown wide with arousal. Castiel watched as Dean raised his arm, guiding his fingers over the hand Castiel had on the gun, before he pushed Castiel’s arm down. Then, without warning, Castiel was flung to the side, his back pressed against the front door as Dean slammed him against it and closed the space between them. The gun clattered to the ground and Castiel could feel himself breathing hard.

“You smell fantastic,” Dean whispered against Castiel’s throat, leaning in to scent him.

Castiel let out a low whine as he felt Dean press his nose against his flesh. He shivered as the Alpha licked a stripe up this throat and began to nibble gently when he reached the sensitive spot behind his ear.

“Dean,” Castiel’s voice wavered as he spoke, “I think I’m in heat.”

“Yeah, Cas,” Dean agreed against his skin, pulling back just enough so they could meet each other’s gaze. “I… would have to agree.”

Castiel let his head fall back against the door as he took a deep breath and groaned. “You smell delicious, Dean. Like pine and cinnamon.”

Castiel ran his hands up Dean’s chest, lifting his head so he could look into Dean’s eyes again. How had he never noticed the Alpha’s eyes were like the forest? He moved his hand back up Dean’s chest, fingers twisting in the fabric of his shirt to pull him closer. “So delicious that I want to taste you. Will you let me, Dean? Will you let me taste you?”

“Jesus, Cas,” Dean gasped and his eyes fluttered closed for a moment. Castiel felt his entire body respond as the Alpha subconsciously rolled his hips forward, pressing his arousal into Castiel’s crotch and pinning him tighter against the door.

“Should… we talk about this?” Dean whispered, his voice cracking once and Castiel smirked back at him.

“What is there to talk about, Dean? You have a willing, horny Omega in heat pinned against the door and you want to talk?” Castiel leaned forward and nipped at Dean’s neck. “I thought you would have already had me naked by now… _Alpha,”_ Castiel purred the last word in Dean’s ear, his breath ghosting across the shell of it.

Dean growled, his arms coming around Castiel’s body and lifting him from the ground. On instinct, Castiel wrapped his legs around the Alpha’s waist, groaning as his cock pressed against the hard line of Dean’s flesh and a fresh wave of slick leaked out of him.

Dean crossed the small cabin space, and suddenly Castiel found himself deposited onto a bed in the downstairs bedroom. His breath left him in a surprised gasp and suddenly there was Dean, crawling up over his body and sealing their lips together.

Castiel moaned into the heated kiss and arched his body up against Dean’s hands as the Alpha skated them down his chest. He trailed down lower, running circles over Castiel’s hip bones with his thumbs before he gripped his hips tight and broke the kiss, holding Castiel down against the bed.

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean groaned, now moving down Castiel’s body, pressing kisses against his heated flesh. Dean’s thumbs were hooked into the sweatpants, sliding them slowly down as he moved, and Castiel shivered as more of his skin was exposed to the air. Dean stopped with his forehead pressed against Castiel’s lower stomach, breathing hard as he scented Castiel again. “You smell so fucking perfect… so perfect for me…”

Castiel reached down and threaded his fingers through Dean’s hair, tugging it until Dean looked up and met his eyes. He swallowed hard as he continued to look down at Dean. “You have far too many clothes on, Alpha,” he whispered, suddenly self-conscious that Dean was still fully dressed.

Dean nodded once, pushing up onto his knees and reaching for the bottom of his shirt. In one smooth motion, he pulled the fabric from over his head, a necklace Castiel had never noticed before bouncing gently against his bare chest. Dean stayed like that for a moment, letting Castiel watch the rise and fall of his chest, before he leaned forward again, pressing their lips and bare chests together.

Castiel felt Dean smile into the kiss a small gasp escaped his lips when he felt Dean’s skin against his. Never in Castiel’s life had he felt this kind of pleasure, this kind of connection with another person. He felt his body start to shake, his brain racing to sort out every emotion bombarding him, and above him, Dean groaned and pressed in closer.

“Remember that day on my couch, Cas? God, you looked so perfect, all spread out for me, soaking wet? I could smell you for days… every time I went into that room, all I had to do was close my eyes and I could see you there.” Dean pressed his lips against the side of Castiel’s throat, his fingers trailing back down his sides. “Wanted you so bad, Cas… wanted to know what you felt like, what all of you felt like.”

Castiel gasped as Dean’s fingernails scraped against his nipples, his entire body reacting. His skin still felt hot, Dean being the only thing that could cool him. He ached, but was it for Dean, or for an Alpha? Castiel’s eyes flew open and he pressed his hands hard into Dean’s chest, forcing the Alpha back.

“Cas?” Dean was confused, but he complied and moved back, kneeling a few inches away. Castiel scrambled back, his entire being _screaming_ at him for moving away. He stared at Dean, the Alpha’s body covered in a sheen of sweat, his jeans tented from his arousal, and Castiel had to bite back the whine of want in his throat.

“It’s just the heat,” he whispered finally, watching as Dean’s confusion increased, the Alpha slowly shaking his head. “It’s just the heat that makes you want this… want me, makes me want you. This is just… biology!” His hands were shaking at his sides and grabbed the nearest pillow to cover his arousal, half uncovered from his pants. “I don’t… I’ve never…” Castiel stopped, shaking his head. Despite the want coursing through his veins, his heart was telling him something very different.

Dean had pushed him away, had denied him, more times than he had ever accepted the desire that was between them. Castiel wasn’t stupid, he knew that the Alpha had wanted him from the first moment they’d laid eyes on each other. But that hadn’t stopped Dean from pushing him away on more than one occasion. Why Dean was bringing up the couch… Castiel didn’t know. But he did know that Dean didn’t really want this, didn’t really want him. And Castiel wasn’t some slutty Omega. He didn’t need to give in and bend over for a knot just because his body _wanted_ it. Dean was an Alpha surrounded by heat pheromones and--

“You’re thinking too fucking loud, Castiel.” Dean’s voice cut through his thoughts and Castiel looked back up, blinking away the tears that had suddenly filled his eyes. Emotional, that was a new heat symptom…

Dean shifted, kicking his legs out so he could sit, and he adjusted his jeans carefully before giving a soft laugh. “Cas, what do you smell right now?”

“What does that have to do with anything, Dean?” Castiel sat up adjusting the pillow in his lap.

“Biology,” Dean replied, smirking, but quickly schooled his features when he saw Castiel wasn’t impressed. “Just… humor me. Please?”

Castiel huffed and rolled his eyes as he took in a deep breath. “I smell orange blossoms, pine, and um... cinnamon.”

“Cinnamon, Cas,” Dean whispered, staring at him with such a hopeful expression that Castiel was taken aback. “Don’t you see it?”

Castiel furrowed his brow and shook his head. “Dean I’m afraid I’m not --” Castiel’s eyes widened. ‘Spicy pine’, the scent he had smelled on Dean that day he had drunkenly came onto him in his office, was _cinnamon!_ The fact that Dean could always scent him, despite the suppressants and the cologne… the way Castiel felt around him, despite everything he’d been taught, or the way he’d been raised.

“Oh,” he whispered, eyes locking on Dean who was still staring back at him. “We’re true mates. I... I never thought I would find mine.” Castiel fell silent for a moment, the only sound in the room was the two of them breathing, evenly matched. “They are so rare…”

“I know,” Dean answered back and Castiel could see him rocking back and forth slightly, itching to move, to touch. “But… like you said. Biology, right?” Dean gave a small laugh again and shook his head. “Since day one, I’ve been drawn to you, Cas… Sam was actually the one that figured it out for me. He’s always been the smart one…”

Castiel felt his pulse quicken even faster than the rapid pace it was already beating. Dean had told someone else. The more people that knew, the more at risk he was. “You told Sam? Dean! How much does he know? Does anyone else know?”

“No, well…” He scrubbed at the back of his neck, suddenly nervous. “Yes, I did. But just Sam, I promise!” Dean rushed to explain, “I trust Sam with my life, Cas. He would never betray my trust and therefore, would never betray you.” Dean paused and then winced, pulling his gaze away from Castiel’s horrified one to look down at the bed. Castiel’s heart skipped a beat as he waited for the next words. “He… may have told Jess, his true mate.” Dean’s eyes snapped back up and he shifted forward, grabbing Castiel’s hand in his own. “But she won’t tell anyone either! I promise you, I would never put you in danger!”

Castiel pulled his hand out of Dean’s grip and scrubbed both of them down his face before he glared at the Alpha. “Jesus, Dean! Do you know what it means to keep a secret?” Castiel sighed and deflated. His body ached with want and he was too hot, too tired to argue. “If you trust them then I trust you… After all, you are my true mate. But it’s very risky for me.”

Castiel felt his heart flutter at the words and watched as the Alpha before him -- _his Alpha_ \-- seemed to light up. Slowly, Dean reached for his arm again, tentative, waiting to see if Castiel would accept his advance without pulling away.

Castiel leaned into the touch. He let Dean run his fingers down his arm until he reached his hand, taking it into his own and pulling Castiel closer to him. He felt a wave of heat course through his body as he laid his head on Dean’s shoulder.

“I’ve never done anything like this before. Dean...” Castiel whispered suddenly feeling very nervous. What if he wasn’t any good? What if he couldn't please his mate? He straightened, trying to swallow back the fear now twisting in his gut.

Dean reached up and cupped the side of Castiel’s face, tipping his head slightly so he could meet his lips. Unlike before, the kiss was soft, and Castiel could feel every emotion the Alpha was trying to convey through the kiss. Dean kissed him until they were both breathless and they had fallen back against the bed, the pillow Castiel had been using as a shield forgotten on the ground and their legs intertwined as they lay side by side.

“This will be a first for both of us,” Dean said softly, pressing his lips against Castiel’s forehead, his hands trailing down Castiel’s back and brushing against the curve of his ass. “I’ve never been with a mate before either.”

In response, Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck, guiding his mouth to Dean’s throat and biting down on his collarbone as a wave of heat washed over him. Castiel relished in the choked off moan it drew from his Alpha. “I know you are trying to comfort me.” He drew back from where his tongue had been soothing the purpling bite mark and looked Dean in the eyes. “But I'm no delicate flower.” A smirk played across Castiel’s lips as he let his fingertips dance across the Alpha’s chest. “As much as I may smell like one. This may be my first heat, my first time, that doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m doing. Biology… remember, Dean?” Castiel rolled his hips up and rubbed his hardened length against Dean’s, making both men groan in unison.

“Oh, yeah, I remember.” Dean’s hands moved back to Castiel’s hips, holding them together as he rolled onto his back, pulling Castiel on top of him. Castiel stared down at him for a moment before leaning forward and sealing their lips together. Dean groaned into his mouth, fingers tightening and digging into his flesh.

Castiel arched into Dean’s touch as he ground down against him, feeling fresh slick pulse from his body. “I think I much rather prefer you under me than on top of me, Alpha,” Castiel moaned as he slowly started to rock his hips in Dean’s lap.

Dean groaned back, rolling his hips to meet Castiel’s and nodded his head. “Yeah, I think I am totally on board with this.”

Castiel leaned down and started nipping and sucking on his Alpha’s neck as they continued to gyrate against each other. “Dean, get these pants the rest of the way off me, then take yours off. I want to see you, Alpha, I want to feel _all_ of you.”

Dean complied quickly, dragging Castiel’s sweats the rest of the way down his thighs before Castiel pushed up and gave Dean the room to free him completely. Castiel stayed up on his knees, eyes locked on Dean’s hands as they moved to his own pants, snapping open the button and lifting up to wiggle from the denim.

Castiel knew his eyes widened, he could almost feel the smirk playing out on Dean’s lips, but as the Alpha’s cock sprang free resting hot and hard against his stomach, Castiel felt his mouth water.

He lowered himself back down on top of Dean, gasping when he felt the Alpha’s hard cock slip between his slick soaked ass cheeks. Castiel started swaying back and forth loving the feel of the Alpha’s cock rubbing against him. Dean responded to every movement, matching Castiel’s short thrusts with ones of his own. Castiel leaned back slightly, his entire body on display as he rolled his hips against Dean.

“God, you’re so perfect, Cas,” Dean whispered, moving one of his hands to run up Castiel’s stomach and chest. “You’re fucking gorgeous.”

Castiel ran his hand through Dean’s hair and gripped it tight causing the Alpha to hiss and meet Castiel’s eyes. “You are very sweet, Dean, but right now I don't want sweet. This is my first heat, I want, I _need_ my Alpha to be primal with me. My body craves it, Dean. Don’t you want to give your mate what he _needs_?”

Dean surged forward, claiming Castiel’s mouth in a bruising kiss. Castiel could taste copper on his tongue and he groaned into Dean’s mouth, briefly wondering if it was him or Dean that was bleeding. The blood seemed to send Dean into a frenzy, and suddenly they were flipped again, Dean pressing Castiel’s body hard into the mattress.

He tore away from Castiel’s mouth, breathing hard, his fingers pressing into Castiel’s chest. He held him in place as he started down the column of his throat, sucking and biting the soft flesh between his teeth. He paused at the juncture of Castiel’s neck and shoulder, sucking hard, and Castiel felt his heart skip a beat, heat surging through his entire body as it recognized the spot.

It was the spot where Dean would mark him, claim him as his Omega, as his mate. Castiel bared his neck and gave Dean more room to lick, bite, and suck his milky white flesh. Dean groaned against his throat, bruising the skin with his teeth without claiming him yet. Castiel ignored the slight sting of disappointment and focused on wrapping his legs around Dean’s waist to pull him in closer, his fingers threading through Dean’s hair to push him down so he would bite harder.

Dean’s teeth tightened, but didn’t break the skin, and the pleasure of the pain zinged through the Omega’s body. Castiel felt himself responding, his body becoming slicker, and he gripped the back of Dean’s head, pulling the Alpha off of his neck so he could smash their lips together again in a frenzied kiss, all teeth and tongue. Dean groaned into his mouth, biting down on Castiel’s bottom lip and the Omega could feel his skin break. He cried out as Dean sucked it into his mouth, drawing blood from it. It was primal, it drove his Alpha wild, and Castiel wanted more.

“Fuck, Cas.” Dean’s tongue trailed along Castiel’s lower lip, dragging the blood with it. He kissed Castiel softly before pulling back and smiling down at him. The Alpha’s teeth and lips were stained with Castiel’s blood and the sight before him sent another wave of pleasure and want through him. Dean’s cock twitched against Castiel’s stomach. “Your heat is sending me into a rut.” He hissed as Castiel reached forward to wrap his fingers around the Alpha’s dick. “Want you so fucking bad.”

Castiel spread his legs wider, letting Dean settle between them. “Good,” he answered, angling his hips up to give Dean a better view of his slick soaked skin. “I want you to taste me, Dean. I want you to lick my slick hole, just like you were going to that day at your house. I want to feel the warm press of your tongue against me, Alpha.”

“Fuck,” Dean whispered back and kissed him hard, once, twice, before moving back down Castiel’s body. He took his time, as much time as he could in their frenzied state, and pressed his mouth over every inch of Castiel’s body he passed on his way down. He settled between Castiel’s spread thighs, breathing in deep, and groaned as he glanced back up and locked eyes with Castiel. “You smell so fucking good.”

“Bet I taste better.” Dean’s eyes widened, his green eyes nearly all black now. Castiel canted his hips, “Why don’t you see for yourself, Alpha?”

That was all it took for Dean to surge forward, his hands shoving Castiel’s legs wider to the point where it was almost painful. Then Dean buried his nose just beneath Castiel’s balls and his tongue was pressed hot and wet against his skin. Dean hummed his approval from between Castiel’s legs, the vibrations sending small shockwaves of pleasure through his lover’s body.

“Fuck!” Castiel shouted, his back bowing off the bed at the warm press of his Alpha’s tongue. “Jesus fucking Christ, Dean! God that feels amazing.” Castiel groaned and pressed his ass back against Dean’s face.

Castiel felt as Dean’s fingers dug in harder against the muscles of his thighs, as his tongue pressed deeper into his body. His entire body felt like it was on fire, everything centered around the warm drag of Dean’s tongue moving slowly across his skin, licking up every drop of slick he leaked, and pressing into his body. He never really thought about what it would feel like, had only had his own fingers down there a few times, but Dean’s tongue slowly stretching out his hole felt amazing.

Castiel moaned and gripped the bed sheets as he threw his head back onto the pillow. “More Dean,” Castiel panted, “More, give me more, Alpha.”

Dean groaned against Castiel's skin, his tongue pressing deeper into Castiel's slick soaked hole. Like everything the Alpha did, Castiel knew Dean was giving it everything he had. His skin was on fire, Dean's touch the only thing that could cool him, and he craved it like his own personal drug.

"Taste so good," Dean moaned and moved back slightly, licking the slick from his lips and chin. "Better than I could've imagined." He shifted, kissing over Castiel's thighs and hips before he sucked the Omega's swollen cock down in one smooth motion, hollowing his cheeks as the head of Castiel's dick hit the back of his throat.

Castiel cried out as soon as Dean’s lips sealed around his swollen flesh. He could feel the vibrations flow through his overly sensitive body as Dean hummed around his cock. Castiel's toes curled as the Alpha bobbed his head up and down at a languid pace, running his tongue across the slit to gather the precome that beaded at the tip.

Castiel felt Dean's fingers run up his thighs, teasing his balls before he slid them lower in between the Omega's slick ass cheeks. Dean circled Castiel's wet hole with his middle finger and the Omega gasped as it quivered at the Alpha's touch.

Dean took his time opening Castiel up nice and slow, twisting his fingers slowly in and out, the way eased by the amount of slick. His mouth continued to work Castiel over and when Castiel looked down, he groaned at the sight. Dean's own cock was heavy, hanging down between his legs and the Alpha was rutting against the mattress, desperate for some friction. Castiel could tell his rut was amping up, becoming in tune to Castiel’s wants and needs.

Heat coursed through Castiel as he watched his Alpha roll his hips against the bed. He wanted, God he needed Dean. He needed his Alpha's knot. As good as this felt he needed more to put out the fire raging through his body.

"Dean, Dean," Castiel panted as the Alpha crooked his fingers and ran the pads of them over the Omega's prostate. "Dean, look at me... look at me, Alpha." Dean ran his tongue from the base of Castiel's cock to the tip and met his eyes as his tongue dipped into the slit. The Omega groaned low and dirty before he spoke, his voice cracking. "Dean, I need you… _all_ of you."

Dean nodded, slowly withdrawing his fingers and sucking the slick off each of them before he moved up Castiel's body to kiss him again. Castiel wasn't entirely sure how this would work. He'd seen enough movies and heard his brother's talk about all the Omegas and Betas they'd fucked to know the basics. As he moved to roll over, Dean's hands tightened on his hips and held him in place as he shook his head. “I won't take you like that Cas, not for our first time.”

The Alpha slid his hands around Castiel's thighs, guiding his legs around his body, and lifting Castiel's hips in the process. Dean ran his hand though the Omega’s ass and coated his cock up before he lined himself up. The Alpha's cock was hot against Castiel's entrance, and as they locked eyes, Dean slowly pushed forward, bottoming out in one long thrust.

“ _Blyad_ ,” Castiel groaned at the thick intrusion completely filling him. He flexed his inner muscles, tightening them around Dean’s cock. Dean gripped Castiel’s hips and withdrew slowly to the tip before pushing back in up to the hilt. The Omega noticed how Dean’s eyes trailed down their joined bodies to watch where Dean and himself were connected.

“How does it look Alpha?” Castiel moaned as Dean started moving his hips. “How does your thick cock look disappearing into my tight, slick hole?"

Castiel loved how Dean continued the languid roll of his hips, causing small breathy sighs to spill from his lips. He loved the way Dean’s lids were hooded, the way he was biting his lower lip as he continued to watch his cock slide in and out of Castiel's hole.

Dean groaned, shoving in hard and pausing to meet Castiel’s eyes. “It’s so fucking hot, watching you take all of me. You’re so good…”

The heat pulsed through Castiel’s veins. He needed harder, faster. Castiel growled and wrapped his legs tighter around Dean’s waist before he shoved and flipped them. He loomed over the wide eyed Alpha, who was clearly shocked by Castiel's actions, and clenched his body tight around Dean.

“Cas? What--”

Castiel crashed their lips together, silencing the Alpha, as he straddled his mate. “Alpha,” Castiel panted against his mate's lips, grinding his ass down onto Dean’s crotch and soaking him with slick.

Dean gripped Castiel's hips and rutted up, his cock sliding in between Castiel's ass cheeks. He removed one of his hands from Castiel's hips and reached down to grip his cock. “Fuck me, Castiel. Take my knot.”

Castiel positioned himself and slick pulsed from his body, coating his Alpha’s dick and easing the way as he slowly sank down on Dean’s cock. Castiel threw his head back and moaned once he was fully seated on his mate’s cock. “ _Vy chuvstvuyete kak nebo,_ Dean.”

It truly felt amazing and Castiel found himself wondering why he had never done this before, why he had denied himself this pleasure for _years._

“God you're beautiful like this,” Dean whispered, running his fingers down Castiel’s chest. “You look so perfect on top of me.”

Castiel rolled his hips, swaying back and forth before he began to move up and down. Dean planted his feet on the bed, Castiel’s hands moving back to give himself leverage to raise up, almost slipping off of Dean completely, before sinking back down. “You look so good opening up for me, slick pouring from you and coating my cock.”

Castiel lifted back up slowly and then slammed himself down onto Dean’s cock, making himself cry out as his eyes rolling back into his head. He realized, through the small shock waves of pleasure, that Dean’s cock had struck his prostate, and God it felt wonderful. He wanted to feel that again and again. “ _Yebat’ da tak chertovski khorosho.”_

Dean groaned, his hands sliding up Castiel’s thighs and digging into the corded muscle. “God, it's hot when you speak Russian. I don't know what you are saying, but it's sexy as fuck.”

Castiel smirked as he leaned down and ran his tongue across his mate’s lips before whispering against them, “ _Ya sobirayus' yezdit' vash petukh zhestkiy i bystryy, poka vy ne zavyazyvat' menya i nasos menya polno prikhodyat_.”

Dean bit Castiel’s bottom lip, pulling it into his mouth gently, and sucking it before he let it go. “Tell me what you just said, Cas.”

Castiel nuzzled his mate's neck, scenting him, letting the aroma of pine and cinnamon quell his rising heat. “I said, ‘I'm going to ride your cock hard and fast until you knot me and pump me full of come’.”

Dean’s grip tightened on Castiel's thighs. “I think that is an excellent idea, Cas.”

Castiel straightened back up and splayed his hands across Dean’s chest. He started to bounce up and down on Dean's cock, hitting his prostate over and over. Castiel's cock throbbed and dripped precome, it pooled on Dean's stomach as he continued to ride his Alpha.

“Cas, Cas, God yes! Fuck!” Dean gasped as Castiel slammed his ass down onto Dean’s cock, the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room as he thrust down harshly.

Castiel’s breath hitched as Dean’s knot began to fill, his eyes widened as he felt it catch against his rim. Castiel moaned breathlessly, “ _Da, da, zavyazhi menya, sdelay menya svoim_!”

“Fuck Cas,” Dean panted. “My knot is swelling, do you feel it? It's going to pump you full of come, just like you wanted.”

Castiel moaned and Dean’s hands slid up his body, gripping his mate’s hips tightly as he rutted up into him. Dean’s cock slipped in and out of Castiel’s hole, making a filthy wet squelching sound. Castiel was balancing on a fine line between pain and pleasure and he dug his fingernails into Dean’s chest, pinpricks of blood rising to the surface in the wake of his scratches.

“Harder, harder, faster!” Castiel demanded, fucking back onto Dean’s cock in time with the Alpha’s thrusts beneath him. Dean let out a feral growl, his knot popping past Castiel’s rim completely and locking them together. Castiel cried out as he felt the stretch, felt the way the Alpha’s cock throbbed inside of him, felt the release of Dean’s orgasm. Dean continued to roll his hips, his cock pulsing and pressing against Castiel’s prostate. Dean moved, but before he could wrap his long fingers around Castiel’s cock, he was coming, painting Dean’s chest with his release in long, hot stripes.

Castiel collapsed on top of Dean, feeling their hearts beating in tandem. Dean reached up and began to card his fingers back through Castiel's sweaty hair. “That was amazing Cas, you’re amazing.”

Castiel hummed and nuzzled Dean’s throat. “It was rather amazing, Dean. You felt… fantastic.”

Castiel laid there on top his mate feeling overwhelmed; he was overwhelmed by the Alpha’s knot locked tight inside of his body, pulsing, still pumping him full of his mate's come, overwhelmed by the way Dean’s seed cooled his heat, overwhelmed by the feeling of Dean’s hands on him. But most of all, this revelation hit him like a freight train as his breath was nearly knocked out of him; he was overwhelmed by how deeply he felt for Dean.

“Let's sleep, Cas, before your next wave of heat hits,” Dean whispered by his ear as he rubbed his hand down Castiel's back.

  
“Good idea, _moy ideal'nyy Al'fa_.” Castiel mumbled into his mate's shoulder as his eyes fell shut. He felt his entire body relax, sated from the brain-meltingly satisfying sex. Dean reached down, moving as little as possible so his knot wouldn’t pull, and grabbed the sheet to pull over them. Castiel let the calming scent of their intermingling scents lull him to sleep as he laid knotted on top his mate.

 

Dean stepped out of the downstairs shower. He’d left Castiel soaking in the large bathtub off their bedroom, the Omega wanted the water much too cool for Dean’s tastes. He dried off quickly and could feel the underlying buzz of his rut just beneath his skin. Normally, they would have an hour, maybe two at most, before he and Castiel would be tangled up in the sheets again, but something told Dean this was it.

Dean smiled to himself as he wrapped the towel around his waist and stood before the oversized mirror above the vanity. His skin looked flushed and as his gaze trailed down, he could see small bruises and red marks from his mate’s teeth and nails.

He smirked as he raised his left hand, letting his fingers trail over the newest marks on his throat. He could still feel Castiel moving against him, fucking back onto Dean as good as Dean was giving it. It had been five days since Dean arrived at the cabin and three since Castiel was begging for Dean to claim him.

Despite everything inside of his body screaming at him to, to mate, to claim, and to breed his mate, Dean held back. He forced himself to kiss Castiel’s throat, untrusting himself to even put his teeth against his skin. It drove the Omega mad.

Last night Dean had seen Castiel fall apart, something he hadn’t anticipated seeing… ever.

_“Please, Dean, **pozhaluysta**.” Castiel twisted against the sheets as Dean rolled his hips lazily, dragging out breathy moans from the Omega beneath him that made Dean wish they never had to stop._

_“What, Cas? What do you need?” Dean let his fingertips trail down Castiel’s chest, down his stomach, just ghosting over his cock, hot and heavy where it lay neglected against his stomach._

_“You, Dean,” Castiel groaned, arching up as much as he could from where Dean’s body was pinning him down. He reached for Dean, fingernails digging into Dean’s stomach as they gasped in tandem when Dean’s knot began to catch. “I want to be yours, I want you to bite me. Make me yours, Alpha. I want the world to know that I belong to you.”_

_Dean groaned, letting his forehead fall against Castiel’s shoulder as he rocked his hips harder against his mate’s body. “Cas…” he whispered against his skin. “You know I want to…”_

_“Then do it, Dean! Do it! I’m literally begging you, Alpha.”_

_“I know.” Dean pulled back slightly, finding Castiel’s lips and kissing him softly as his hand came around Castiel’s cock and started stripping him in time with his hips. And Dean **did** know, Dean wanted that, too. If Dean were to be honest, he’d probably always wanted that, the thought lingering in the back of his mind from their first meeting._

_But in the past five days, Dean had gotten to know Castiel better. In between heats they’d talked about their lives, their childhoods, what the fucked up sense of normalcy being raised by a mob boss was like before they even hit puberty. He learned about Castiel’s dreams, his silent wishes and hopes for his Bratva and for himself. Mostly, Dean knew without a doubt how important his family was to Castiel, and that… that could all be ruined in a heat-clouded rash decision to be officially claimed._

_There would be no hiding his Omega status after a mating bond._

_No amounts of perfume, no amounts of suppressants would hide Castiel’s true gender after he was claimed. He would belong to Dean, as much as Dean would belong to him, and it hurt Dean’s heart to think of Castiel having to give up any part of his life, his family, because of something Dean chose to do._

_As they locked together, Castiel spilt between their stomachs with a cry, his entire body tightening around Dean and milking his knot for all he was worth. Dean gasped against Castiel’s bared throat and kissed him gently, feeling the disappointment causing his mate’s body to stiffen._

_They lay locked together in the dark, their breathing evening out together. Dean shifted gently, folding their bodies together in a different way so they would be comfortable until his knot deflated._

_“I’m sorry,” he whispered after a moment and felt Castiel turn his head away._

_“Just go to sleep, Dean,” Castiel replied, and Dean knew that if they had been separated, the Omega’s arms would be crossed and he would be walking out of the room before Dean could even open his mouth to say anything in his defense. Dean rolled the words around on his tongue -- you have to understand, I would if I could, I don’t believe this is what you want-- but he swallowed them down and buried his face against his mate’s chest, breathing in deep, and let himself fall asleep to the rise and fall of Castiel’s chest._

When the morning had come, Castiel untangled himself from Dean’s body and was all the way on the edge of the bed, sitting up with his legs dangling over the side. He turned his head when he realized Dean was awake and the sunlight that poured through the large bay window cast a beautiful golden glow over the side of his face and spilled down his back.

Dean swallowed hard, realization hitting him hard. He was in love with Castiel Krushnic.

He could scent that Castiel’s heat was amping up, getting ready for another round. It was Castiel wordlessly climbing back on the bed and guiding Dean behind him, refusing to turn around and arching his hips back to present to his Alpha, that let Dean know he was still mad.

When Dean’s knot had deflated enough for them to separate, he brushed sweaty hair out of Castiel’s eyes and kissed his forehead gently. “I’ll run you a bath, okay?”

“ _Da, spasibo_ , Dean,” Castiel hummed back, his body relaxed and sated. While the bath ran, Dean stripped the bed and got everything in the washer like he’d been doing every morning --thank you, Bobby for having a million sheet sets-- and then went to take his own shower.

He hadn’t heard the bathtub drain, and as he stood at the bottom of the stairs he could still hear the jets going in the bathroom. He turned and made his way to the large kitchen, hoping that making Castiel something to eat and tidying up the cabin would quell the Omega’s frustration a little bit.

Dean found an old beat up boom box beneath the sink and was just grateful the two older Alpha’s had something that would play music. He fiddled with the antenna for a few minutes, trying to get reception for WIZN, Classic Rock That _Really_ Rocks!, before he opened up the large windows that overlooked the lake.

Satisfied that the breeze would help air out some of the overpowering scent of sex, Dean turned back to the kitchen and started pulling out supplies to make breakfast. On the second day, when their heat and rut had abated some, Dean made a quick ride into town to get a full load of groceries for the week. He had barely been able to get everything in the fridge before he had his arms full of horny Omega and found himself knotted in the middle of the kitchen floor.

Dean smiled fondly at the memory, letting his hand run over the countertop where he had Castiel bent over as he licked him open, and chuckled as he remembered the matching bruises they had on their hips from trying to get comfortable on the hard tile floor.

As Dean was measuring out the boxed mix for pancakes, Bon Jovi came on the radio. He paused and glanced over his shoulder as he leaned back, giving himself a view of the stairs. Castiel had yet to come down, and was either still in his bath or trying to decide if he should still be mad at Dean.

Dean cleared his throat, cracked a few eggs into the bowl, and started to whisk the batter. “I ain’t got a fever, got a permanent disease… And it’ll take more than a doctor to prescribe a remedy.”

He paused, listening, but the only sounds in the kitchen were the old radio and the sizzling of butter in the cast iron skillet on the stove. Dean cleared his throat again and started tapping his foot as he started pouring the batter into the pan.

“Now, this boy’s addicted ‘cause your kiss is the drug. Whooooa!” Dean flipped the first pancake and then lifted the spatula up to use as a microphone. Bon Jovi never failed to put him in a good mood. “Your love is like a bad medicine, bad medicine is what I need! Whoooa! Shake it up just like a bad medicine, there ain’t no doctor that can cure my disease!”

Dean had a plate full of pancakes, and was proud of himself for not burning any of them when he got too into singing the song instead of checking on his skillet. “I need a respirator ‘cause I’m running out of breath! You’re an all-night generator wrapped in stockings and a dress. When you find your medicine, you take what you can get. ‘Cause if there’s something better bab-”

Dean turned towards the fridge for the breakfast sausage he knew was in there and stopped short, his eyes wide as he saw Castiel had come down stairs at some point and was leaning against the fridge in a pair of Dean’s sweatpants, his arms crossed over his bare chest.

“Um.” _Eloquent, Dean._

“Bon Jovi? Really?” Castiel snorted, pushing away from the fridge so Dean could get into it. “I’ll have you know I will never be wearing ‘stockings’ or a ‘dress’.”

“I will have you know that Bon Jovi is fantastic. On occasion.” Dean reached into the fridge and grabbed the package, hesitating only a moment before he leaned over and pressed his lips against Castiel’s. “I am making food, but there’s a mug on the counter for you and I made a fresh pot of coffee.”

Dean watched as Castiel moved around the kitchen, pouring himself coffee and then crossing into the living area, turning down the radio just slightly as he sank down into the large, oversized chair beside it. He crossed his legs and his foot bounced along to the last chords of ‘Bad Medicine’ and Dean smirked as he turned back to finishing their breakfast.

When he carried two plates loaded with sausages and pancakes over to the small breakfast table, Castiel had already finished his coffee. Dean took his mug and replenished them before they sank into a comfortable silence as they ate their breakfast.

This was nice. Dean couldn’t think of anyone-- other than Sam-- that he could be truly comfortable with sitting in complete silence.

“My heat is over." 

Dean looked up, but Castiel’s eyes were trained on something out the window, his fork hovering over his plate. Dean opened his mouth and then shut it, unsure of where the conversation was headed. It was quiet for another moment, then Castiel added, “Maybe you could tell me now why you don’t want me.”

Castiel cringed as soon as the words left his mouth, but kept looking out the window, and Dean knew he was probably cursing himself internally for sounding so needy. Dean sighed softly, putting his fork down to the side of his plate.

“Cas… How could you think that was even a possibility?” Dean shifted in his seat, trying to catch the Omega’s gaze.

Castiel met Dean’s eyes and the Alpha could see the fire in them. “I don't know, Dean. How about the fact that I begged you --something the Pakhan of the Kruchnic Bratva would _never_ do, something I would never do-- for three goddamn days and you turned me down every single time, and I was in heat! How could you resist your true mate who was in heat and begging you to make them yours?” Castiel sighed and Dean watched as the fire in his eyes burned out. “Is there something wrong with me? Am I defective, a bad Omega? Do you not want me? Just tell me Dean.”

“Christ, Cas, no.” Dean pushed away from the table and moved around it, falling to his knees beside Castiel’s chair and grabbing his legs to turn him. Castiel put up a bit of a fight, but finally relaxed and let Dean crawl between his legs. “You’re fucking perfect, Castiel. And that’s why I told you no.”

Castiel snorted and rolled his eyes. “That is a stupid reason, Dean. If I was so ‘perfect’ you would have claimed me the first night.”

Dean gave a small smile and laid his head down on Castiel’s knee. “No, Cas, you don’t get it.” He looked back up and reached for his mate’s hand, squeezing it between both of his. “I lo… I like who you are, Castiel. You are strong, and smart, and powerful. You are the _Pakhan_. I… I don’t want to be the reason you lose all of that.”

Castiel ran his hand through Dean’s hair and raised an eyebrow. “Dean, I don’t plan on losing anything. I’m still going to be Pakhan. My gender has never defined me thus far and it sure as hell isn’t going to start now, mate or not.”

“But Cas… once we claim each other, you can’t hide your scent. When we bond, we will take on each other’s scents, everyone will know that we are together, and they will know that you’re an Omega.” Dean shook his head, squeezing Castiel’s thighs in what he hoped was reassurance. The fact that his mate had gone days believing he wasn’t good enough, made something nasty curl in Dean’s stomach.

Castiel smirked down at his Alpha. “Dean you haven’t had the pleasure, or displeasure depending on if you are on his good side, of meeting Crowley. He’s my doctor, has been since my father found out how I was going to present. He has access to things you couldn’t even dream up, and some of which… trust me you wouldn’t want to. He can get us medications and colognes that can hide our mated scents. No one we wouldn’t want knowing would need to know.”

Dean nodded slowly, letting Castiel’s words sink in. If it was true, if this Crowley person could actually get Castiel suppressants of a sort to hide their mated scents and his, too, Dean supposed, then nothing in Castiel’s life would have to change. Dean nodded again, trying to force himself to answer, to tell his mate that it sounded perfect. But what came out was nothing Dean gave his mouth permission to say. “I would have to pretend like you meant nothing to me around everyone we see every single day. You would act like I was nothing to you. So, we could be together, but I would be like a dirty little secret.”

Dean felt Castiel stiffen in his chair. “Am I to choose then? Is that what you would have me do Dean? My true mate or my family. I know the situation isn’t ideal, Dean, but I hurt when I am not with you and now that I have had you I can’t walk away… Can you?” Castiel paused, taking a deep breath and Dean buried his face against his stomach, not wanting to look up, not wanting to see the pain in his mate’s eyes. “I wish things were different. I wish I could be with you openly, but you know that's not a possibility right now. So we have to work with the options we have.”

Dean exhaled slowly and finally pulled back to sit on his heels. “I think…” he stopped, knowing that what he was going to say wasn’t going to go over well with his mate. “Castiel… a mating bond isn’t going to change what we are, not really. We are true mates, it’s already a sure thing, so maybe…” he trailed off as Castiel pinned him with an icy blue stare. From the kitchen, Dean could hear his cell phone buzzing against the countertop and they stayed frozen, listening to it move its way around until the call and vibration stopped. “Maybe we should think about it.”

Castiel furrowed his brows and tilted his head slightly to the side. Dean watched as Castiel's eyes trailed over him slow and predatory and he had to suppress a shiver. Castiel leaned down to where his face was so close to Dean’s that the Alpha could feel his hot breath ghosting across his lips. “I have thought about it. I want you Dean. And as Pakhan, I am used to getting what I want, Alpha. So, believe me when I say we will not be leaving this cabin without wearing each other's marks,” Castiel stated, resolute in his words.

“Cas…” Dean whispered, licking his lower lip. Castiel pressed closer and Dean could feel his body responding to his mate’s scent, his closeness, and it had nothing to do with Castiel’s heat or Dean’s rut. He looked up and met his mate’s eyes, clear and free of his heat and Dean nodded. “Okay. I will give you what you want, whatever you want. I just… I want you to be happy, Cas. I want to make you happy and to be a good mate. I don’t _want_ to hide. Whenever I pictured myself mated, it was never like this… but I understand, and I’ll do it. For you.”

Castiel ran his hand across Dean’s face. “I want to be a good mate to you, Dean, and to make you happy also. So... let’s change things. We are the head of our families, we have the power to start making that change. An Omega can’t run a family because they’re ‘too emotional’, ‘making rash judgements based on their heat cycles’, ‘can’t handle telling an Alpha what to do’. Well, we both know how much of a load of shit that is, don’t we? We can make that change, make people realize that gender doesn’t matter as much as they think.” He gazed deep into Dean’s eyes. He saw surprise and wariness and then acceptance.

“I have made my mind up.” Cas took Dean’s face in his hands, “I don’t want to hide anymore Dean, and I definitely don’t want to hide you. I don’t want you to be my ‘dirty little secret.’ You're my true mate, my Alpha, and I…” Castiel stopped suddenly and gave a small nervous laugh, making Dean’s stomach flip. “I just want to be with you,” he finished softly.

Dean surged up to his knees again, crashing his lips against Castiel’s and silencing anything else that might have come from either of their lips. Castiel was right. It didn’t matter if they had to hide their mating for a little while, if it took time to get the Bratva to come around to the fact that their Pakhan was an Omega. What mattered was them, was being together, and Dean wanted nothing more than that.

He’d found his mate, his _true_ mate, and he was luckier than half the SOBs he knew. He would do everything in his power to show Castiel how lucky he was to have found him, all obstacles in their way be damned.

Suddenly, Dean was nervous. They’d been mating nearly non-stop for the past five days, had spent more time knotted together than they had been separated it seemed, and yet this felt _different_. There was a dark part of Dean that was whispering in his ear that Castiel only wanted him _because_ of his heat and Dean was afraid that if he lay himself bare, Castiel would not be there with him.

Swallowing back the sudden bile in his throat, Dean forced himself to lean back and meet Castiel’s eyes. The Omega before him was staring down at him, his eyes bright and clear. Dean let his hands trail up Cas’ legs, guiding them around his waist before he grabbed Castiel’s ass cheeks in his hands and stood, lifting his mate into the air.

Castiel clung to him, uncharacteristically silent as Dean led them through the bottom floor of the cabin, their breakfast left forgotten and the radio playing some sappy Aerosmith song. Dean took the stairs two at a time, dropping Cas gently onto the bed when he reached it. The Omega scooted up the bed immediately, falling back into the pillows and motioning for Dean to follow.

Dean smirked and slid the robe from his shoulders, letting it pool onto the floor at his feet before he crawled onto the bed and hovered over Castiel’s body. Castiel’s hands immediately rose to run over Dean’s bare chest and shoulders, pulling him down into a kiss. Dean felt his body responding, his skin singing out for his mate, and he rolled his hips down to press against Castiel’s body.

“I think, I’m a little overdressed.” Castiel smirked and Dean laughed, finding his lips again. They kissed hard, slow, all tongues and teeth as they freed Castiel from his clothing and were able to explore each other’s bodies for the first time without the frenzy of Cas’ heat and Dean’s rut.

Dean was attuned to every press of his fingertips against Castiel’s skin that made the Omega gasp and moan, every scratch of his nails that made his mate stiffen and tighten his legs around him, seconds away from begging for more. He memorized Castiel’s breaths, knew which ones meant ‘more’, ‘oh god’, ‘too much’, and Dean swallowed each one of them, committed them to memory.

He mapped out every inch of his mate’s skin, kissed and licked as he made his way down Castiel’s body. He had his mate a quivering mess beneath him, his shoulders marked up from Cas’ nails digging into his flesh.

“Dean, Dean _please_ ,” Castiel whined and Dean groaned at the sound, burying his nose against his mate’s throat. “I need you,” Castiel whispered, his voice cracking, and Dean knew the confession hadn’t come easy.

He swallowed hard, pulling back to meet Cas’ eyes, and kissed him softly. “I know, Cas. I need you, too.”

With eyes locked, Castiel soundlessly spread his legs, lifting his hips and locking his legs over Dean’s hips. Dean shifted, pressing forward, and slid smoothly into his mate until they were flush together. Castiel’s body was hot, wet and tight around him and Dean took a moment to appreciate the feel of his mate’s body beneath him.

“Cas, you feel--”

“Perfect, I know.” Castiel smirked, squeezing his thighs against Dean’s hips and arching up. Dean groaned as he shifted deeper. “I’ll feel even better when you start to _move.”_

Dean chuckled back and started to move, rocking his hips slowly, sliding in and out of Castiel’s body. They found a steady rhythm, hips moving in time with one another, hands roaming down backs and across sides, fingers pressing and pulling as they came together. His mouth found Castiel’s again and he licked his way inside, pressing every feeling, every thought, into his lover.

Castiel gasped against his mouth as Dean’s knot began to swell, the engorged flesh catching against Castiel’s tight rim. Dean moaned back, pulling back to pant against Cas’ mouth as he started to thrust harder into his mate’s body.

“Cas,” Dean whispered and Castiel clung back to him, fingernails digging into the corded muscles of Dean’s shoulders as he bared his throat.

“Dean, please.” Castiel arched up as Dean thrust forward, groaning as he locked them together and spilled deep inside of his mate. He reached between them, wrapping his fingers around Castiel’s cock, giving his mate a quick squeeze before he started stroking his skin quickly. He rolled his hips, pressing his knot deeper, looking for the spot inside of his mate that would send him over the edge. “Dean!”

Castiel cried out and Dean surged forward, sinking his teeth into the muscle just above Castiel’s clavicle. Heat flooded Dean’s mouth and he moaned as the taste of blood hit his tongue. Castiel cried out again and coated Dean’s hand and their stomachs with his release, his entire body tightening around Dean’s body like a vice.

“Cas,” Dean groaned against Cas’ skin, sucking the blood that had spilled down his chest into his mouth. He pulled back and bared his own throat to Castiel. “Bite me.”

Castiel snorted at Dean’s choice of words but pushed up, wrapping his arm around Dean’s shoulder and his other holding his head into place. He nuzzled his nose against Dean’s flesh for a second before he found his spot and bit down, piercing the top of Dean’s shoulder. There was a quick flare of pain before his entire body relaxed and he released another load of come into his mate.

Dean groaned when he looked down at Cas, his blood staining his mate’s mouth. He closed the gap between them and ran his tongue across Cas’ lips, the metallic taste exploded in his mouth as he began to kiss his mate fervidly. When his lungs screamed for air he pulled back and rested his forehead against Castiel’s. “How do you feel, Cas?”

Castiel hummed and nuzzled at the mark, his mark, on Dean. “I feel complete, _moy_ ideal'nyy Al'fa.”

Dean smiled against his mate’s throat scenting him, loving how Castiel’s orange blossom scent was laced with traces of pine and cinnamon, loving how he knew he smelled the same way and that they would always smell that way.

“Me too, Cas. Me too, my strong Omega.”

 

 


	7. Point Of No Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Russian Glossary Chapter Six**  
>  _Akh, slava Bogu! Ya bespokoilas' o tebe! mladshiy brat_ \- Oh thank God! I was worried sick about you little brother.  
>  _Blyad_ \- Fuck  
>  _Chto takoye Don zdes' delayet_ \- What is the Don doing here?  
>  _Gde yebat' ty byl_ \- Where the fuck have you been?  
>  _Krushnics ne brosit' kurit', brat_. - Krushnics do not quit, brother.  
>  _Mladshiy Brat_ \- Little Brother  
>  _Moy vozlyublennyy_ \- True Mate  
>  _On moy priyatel'!, Vy pokazhite yemu uvazheniye, kak ty menya_! - He is my mate! You show him the same respect as you do me.  
>  _Vy_ \- You  
>  _Vy povyazana moy mladshiy brat! Ya tebya ub'yu_ \- You claimed my little brother. I’ll kill you!

_**“Those that want respect, give respect.”-- Tony Soprano** _

 

 

 

 

 

 

_** ** _

**Porter Medical Center | Porter Drive |** **Middlebury, Vermont**

 

 

Dean walked through the sliding doors to the Porter Medical Center, stepping to the side to let his mate enter before him. Castiel rolled his eyes but couldn't help the small smile that graced his lips as he grumbled, “I can activate the door myself you know.”

Dean shrugged and followed behind him smirking. “I know, I was just trying to be a gentleman.”

Castiel barked out a laugh as they walked through the large lobby and entered the elevator. He pressed the button for the first floor and turned to look at Dean. “You, Dean Winchester, are far from a gentleman.”

Dean lips curled up into a smirk and Castiel quickly realized from the heat in his mate’s eyes that it was because they were the only two in the elevator. Castiel’s eyes widened at the predatory look Dean gave him as he backed him up against the railing, one hand pressing against the wall beside Castiel's head and the other wrapping around his waist. Dean leaned down and nosed the Omega’s t-shirt out of his way, swirling his tongue over the raised, red skin of his mating mark. The smell of their sudden mixed arousal filled the tiny space and Dean nipped at the still healing mark before placing warm wet kisses up Castiel's throat, stopping by his ear to whisper into it as he pulled their bodies flush together. “And you, Castiel Krushnic, love the fact that I am no _gentleman_.”

Castiel opened his mouth to retort but the ding of the elevator had them springing apart. They switched spots with a group of nurses and Castiel turned his head to the side to see Dean had watched the group and was biting his lip to keep from laughing at their expressions the moment they were hit with the thick, cloying scent of arousal.

Castiel rolled his eyes and shook his head as he double checked the directional board for the ICU. He led Dean to the right and found the familiar hallway to the unit, quickly finding the room his brother was in. Castiel rapped on the closed door before pushing it open. He could smell the relief coming off of his brother when he walked into the room.

“ _Akh, slava Bogu! Ya bespokoilas' o tebe!_ ” Gabriel rocked himself gently in the bed, his face pale as he struggled to turn enough to press the button on the inside of the side rail with his left, casted hand to raise the head to help him sit up. He grimaced once, but otherwise smiled and looked excited to see his brother. “ _Gde yebat' ty byl_?”

Castiel stepped further into the room, his eyes trailing over and assessing his brother. “Thanking God and cursing in the same breath? Good one, brother!” Although the swelling had gone down on his face, there was now a large purplish bruise, the edges turning a strange shade of yellow and green. The hospital gown had dipped low and Castiel could see large scabs littering his brother’s chest, all in various stages of healing, some bruised and some just red. Gabriel’s left hand had been set in a different cast, the plaster an obnoxious shade of lime green, and Castiel felt himself smiling -- it was so his brother.

Gabriel grimaced again, reaching to tug at the strap to the black cloth sling that had his right arm secured against his side, but he looked good. He looked awake. Castiel smiled and reached for one of the guest chairs to drag over to the bedside.

“I’m sorry you were worried about me.” Cas locked his gaze on what he could of his brother’s still heavily bruised eyes. “You look a lot better.”

As he sat down beside Gabriel, he heard the scraping of another chair and the brother’s looked up to see Dean dragging one over. Gabriel immediately narrowed his eyes and looked from Castiel to Dean. “ _Chto takoye Don zdes' delayet_?”

Castiel sighed at his brother’s question and ran his hand across the back of his neck, pulling his shirt down a little to reveal the beginning of Dean’s mating mark. Gabriel’s eyes widened and he struggled to sit up, giving a frustrated sigh when he couldn’t, and reaching to punch at the button again to raise the head of the bed further.

“You mated, Castiel!? With all this shit going on you chose _now_ to get mated!?” Gabriel’s voice was loud and it cracked at the end, the only way Castiel noticed his brother’s panic. Gabriel glared and Castiel watched as his brother forced himself to take a deep breath and calm himself. His nostrils flared as he took a deep breath, then the flash of anger was back in his eyes and Castiel knew that his brother had smelled his and Dean’s mixed mated scent. Gabriel thrust his casted hand out at Dean, pointing as best as he could as he said, “ _Vy! Vy povyazana moy brat! Ya tebya ub'yu_!”

Castiel narrowed his eyes and growled back at his brother. “ _On moy priyatel'! Vy pokazhite yemu uvazheniye, kak ty menya!_ ”

Gabriel opened his mouth to retort only to have Dean cut him off. “Um, how about we use English? I got a feeling I'm a big part of this conversation and I would like to be in on it.”

Gabriel snarled at Dean. “I was just telling Castiel that I was going to _kill_ you. I swear to you that you would already be dead if I could get out of this bed. Who told you? How did you find out about Castiel? Did you bribe him? So help me, Don Winchester, if you forced my brother to mate with you...”

Dean growled and Castiel placed his hand on his mate's shoulder before turning to look at his brother. “He did no such thing, Gabriel. Dean would never force me to do anything that I didn’t want to do. As for how he found out? He's always known.” At Gabriel's confused look he continued, “Do you not remember?” Castiel looked concerned and shifted forward. “I told you about it. Dean was the Alpha at the bar the night before we met with them officially.” Gabriel's eyes widened and Castiel could practically see the wheels turning in his head. “The one that I told you had scented me?”

Gabriel shook his head. “Yeah, it’s all coming back to me.” He shook his head again. “Sorry, brain’s scrambled.” He gave a dry laugh looked at his brother, trying to tell him silently that he was okay, but couldn’t help glaring at the Don.

Castiel shifted in the chair and leaned forward with his arm out, giving his wrist to his brother to scent without making him move too much. Gabriel buried his nose in Castiel's wrist and his eyes widened as he spoke. “Orange blossom, pine, and <i>cinnamon</i>. Castiel... That means he's y-your--”

Castiel smiled at Dean and took his hand back as he nodded. “Yes. He’s my true mate, Gabriel. _Moy vozlyublennyy._ ”

Gabriel ran both his hands down his face. “Well fuck me. Those are rare. When did you figure it out?”

“When I went into heat,” Castiel said softly. “But Dean had it figured out bef-”

“Heat!” Gabriel shrieked, cutting his brother’s reply short. “You went into heat?”

Castiel nodded. “Yes, that's why I haven't been here in the past five days.”

Gabriel turned his attention to Dean, his expression stormy. Castiel could feel the tension rolling off of his brother and he knew if it weren’t for his brother’s mottled face, he would’ve looked downright terrifying. “Is that when you did it? Did you take advantage and claim him when he was out of his mind in heat? Of all the goddamn knot-heads my brother could end up mated with… True fucking mates...”

“No,” Dean growled, cutting off Gabriel’s oncoming tirade, “Not that it’s any of your business…”

Castiel looked over his shoulder and met Dean’s eyes, silently asking him to be patient. Although he wouldn’t admit it out loud, Gabriel’s approval meant a lot to him.

Dean sighed and seemed to relax slightly as he tore his eyes from Castiel’s and looked back at Gabriel. “Even though I was in rut, I turned him down every single time he asked me to claim him. I even suggested once his heat was over that we take time to think about it. But,” Dean paused, shaking his head and smiling at the memory of the conversation, “Cas told me that he had thought about it already. As Pakhan, he’s used to getting what he wants, and he told me that we wouldn’t be leaving the cabin until we were wearing each other’s marks.” Dean pulled at his collar to expose Castiel’s mark.

Castiel watched as the tension drained from Gabriel and his brother snorted. “That does sound like my _mladshiy brat_.” Gabriel motioned towards the chair Dean had brought over but hadn’t sat in. “Have you contacted Crowley yet?”

Castiel shook his head. “No, not yet.”

Gabriel sighed, finally relaxing fully back against the hospital bed. “Castiel you need to ASAP! This was your first heat. He needs to examine you, make sure everything is okay. He will also need to get new, stronger suppressants and scent blockers for you and-” Gabriel nodded towards Dean, “-your mate. You guys stink like each other and Castiel… Now there is no denying you are an Omega. Neither one of you can go back to New York until this is taken care of.” Gabriel held out his hand to Dean. “Don Winchester, your phone, please. I need to call Crowley.”

Dean pulled his phone out of his pocket and passed it to Gabriel with an eyebrow raised. “You can call me Dean.” Then he smirked and winked. “We _are_ family now.”

Gabriel huffed and looked over at his brother. “Seriously, Castiel? You couldn't have mated a nice Russian Alpha?”

Castiel rolled his eyes at Gabriel before he turned towards Dean, smiling as he patted him on the cheek. “I would rather have my bad ass, true mate, _Italian_ Alpha over a nice Russian one.”

Dean returned the smile while Gabriel mumbled under his breath, “Well, at least you got the pretty Alpha… fucking biology…” Castiel gave him a halfhearted glare and watched as his brother punched in Crowley’s number.

Silence fell over the room and then Gabriel cleared his throat. “Crowley? Yeah, Gabriel Krushnic. Listen… we’ve got a dilemma.” There was a pause and Gabriel rolled his eyes. “No, Castiel isn’t complaining about his meds again. But… about those. My little brother has some, ah, _perfect_ timing and went and got himself mated with--- No, he didn’t find himself a nice Russian Alpha, that’s _exactly_ what I said! Listen, Crowlster, you’re preaching to the goddamn choir here. He found his true mate and they couldn’t wait to get tied up and mated. Tie the knot, so to speak. Hah, get it? Get it Crowlster?… You’re a dick, man.”

“Any day now,” Castiel muttered under his breath and gave a short laugh as his brother tried to flick him off, half his hand covered by the sling.

“Right, all of you are so goddamn impatient. Must have some sticks up your asses… or in Castiel’s case, a nice ol’ knot. Don’t give me that look Dean-o!” Gabriel’s voice was sharp and he pinned Dean with a stare as the Alpha moved forward in his seat. “So, Crowley… we need your smarmy ass up here to look him over, make sure his parts are in place, and get him and his mate some new suppressants and scent blockers. Bring yourself a nose plug, cause these two _reek_.”

Crowley made a parting comment before Gabriel hung up and tossed the phone back to its owner. Castiel was impressed when his mate caught it with the tips of his fingers and shoved it back into his pocket. When he looked back up, Gabriel was staring at him and shaking his head.

“What did Crowley say?”

“Castiel… cinnamon? Really? Could you two be any more fucking Christmassy?” Gabriel wrinkled his nose for effect. “Every time I smell you two I’m going to expect a goddamn present.”

“Gabriel!” Castiel sighed, exasperated, “What the hell are they giving you for drugs?”

Smirking, his brother shifted and took his time finding a comfortable position in the bed before he finally answered. “Crowley’s coming up here to examine you and he’ll bring some suppressants for you both. He said he’s got some kind of… cologne that will mask your true scents, so you’re both going to have to wear Alpha scents. You, Dean-o, will need to text him the address where you guys are staying so he can plug that into his ol’ GPS.”

Dean nodded and took the phone back out. Castiel watched as his mate scrolled through the recent calls to find Crowley’s number to text him the address, then smiled as Dean saved the number in his phone.

“Just in case,” he said when he caught Castiel watching him.

When the thirty seconds of silence became too much for Gabriel, he cleared his throat to gain their attention back to him. “So, Dean-o… what are your intentions with my brother?”

“Gabriel, don’t you think we have other pressing matters to talk about--”

“To make him happy in every way that I can,” Dean answered in tandem with Castiel. The Omega stopped midsentence and turned to look over at his mate.

“Sappy. Gross.” Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Whatever, don’t think this conversation is over, Mr. Winchester. I’ve got some more questions for you once I talk to Doctor Abbadon. Or as I like to call her, Abba _damn_.”

Castiel looked up, confused, and then noticed that a tall, red haired woman in a white lab coat had entered the room. She rolled her eyes and Castiel already knew the woman had resigned herself to his brother’s flirting.

“Mr. Krushnic, good afternoon. It’s nice to see you in such high spirits today.” She shifted her clipboard in her hands and walked further into the room, holding out her hand for Castiel and Dean to shake. “I’m Christine Abbadon, Spine Specialist and Orthopedic surgeon.”

“This is my younger brother and… his mate,” Gabriel said after a moment of hesitation. “So… what’s up, Doc?”

“Well, Gabriel, all of your labs came back looking good this morning. Your white blood cell count is no longer elevated. Although we’ll have you finish out the Cipro, your fever is gone, and I think we beat off any possibility of further infection.”

“Wait, you had an infection?” Castiel cut in, looking between Gabriel and the doctor. “Why didn’t you call me!”

“I tried,” Gabriel said calmly, rolling his eyes at his brother. “You were a little busy there with Dean-o. Plus, they said it wasn’t a big deal.”

“We were concerned,” Dr. Abbadon turned toward Castiel, “that some of the lacerations your brother had were getting infected.” Cas’ brows furrowed in concern and concentration as she continued, “Although they were cleaned and cared for at the hospital in New York, it would appear some of them had been open for quite some time. We started your brother on a broad-spectrum antibiotic, Ciprofloxacin if you’re interested, to fight off any infection that was there and to prevent any other bugs from turning nasty.”

“And he’s all right, now,” Castiel asked looking at his brother.

“Everything seems to be healing nicely. I’m not concerned with any of the stitches… we can take those out in another six days or so.”

Gabriel’s brows bounced with mischief and Castiel just knew that under the bruising there was a glint in his brother’s eye. “And how about my bones, doc?”

The doctor took Gabriel’s flirting in stride. “You’ll be happy to know that I recieved a wet read for your x-ray from this morning and it appears that everything in your wrist is setting nicely which means I won’t have to go in there with any pins. You will have to keep it casted though.”

Gabriel grumbled at her last comment, twisting his wrist around as he stared down at his cast. “What about the sling?”

“Well,” she gave him a short nod, “you have to be careful with the shoulder for 12-16 weeks, normally. But, because of the break in your collarbone,” she pointed to his chest, “I am saying at least six weeks. You can remove it for dressing and bathing, but it’s there to keep your bones in place while they heal.” She gave Gabriel a sad smile and waited to see if he would comment before she continued, “Now, medically you are stable Mr. Krushnic. And that’s a good thing. I have made plans to have you transferred over to the Helen Porter Rehabilitation Center.”

“With the old geezers who fell down the stairs and broke their hips. Great,” Gabriel fired back and Castiel turned to him with his eyes wide. “I’m not old, Doc. I don’t need to go and hang out with a bunch of--”

“If you want to walk again? Acute rehabilitation care is what is going to get you there, Gabriel.” Dr. Abbadon’s voice was hard, like stone, and it made Castiel whip his head around to see the cool expression on her face. This was, obviously, not the first time she had this conversation with his brother. “You were very lucky that your spinal cord was not completely severed. You were very lucky,” she emphasized the word, “that you didn’t have to have surgery to make any repairs. You have every opportunity to try to ensure that a wheelchair is not the way you will be spending the rest of your days, Mr. Krushnic, but it will not be so with that attitude!”

“You… you can’t walk?” Dean asked softly and Gabriel, it seemed, was grateful for the interruption, and he pinned Dean with fire in his eyes.

“No, Dean-o, I can’t walk,” Gabriel snapped. “I’m a fucking cripple right now, okay? I’m not fit to be a part of the… family business anymore. I can’t even wipe my own fucking ass right now!” Gabriel raised his arms, as much as he could with the sling, and slammed his cast down in frustration, gasping in pain as he jolted his entire body. “There’s no fucking point in going to rehab for a maybe, Doc.”

“There is _every_ point, Gabriel!” the doctor fired back, dropping her clipboard onto the side table and rounding the bed so she was standing right beside him. “Maybe those ‘old geezers’ who are working their assess off, doing three hours of therapy a day so they can walk on their new hips and new knees and take care of their everyday needs, will give you the motivation you lack! More so, if you _do_ end up in a wheelchair, that does not negate your potential and if you have based your entire life and your entire worth off of your ability to walk? You have been living under a rock!”

“Gabriel…” Castiel cut in after a moment, waiting for his brother to turn his gaze from the doctor to meet his eyes. “ _Krushnics ne brosit' kurit', brat_. We never quit.”

Gabriel swallowed hard and then plastered a smile on his face, one that could fool anyone else other than Castiel. He could feel the lingering pain of his brother’s words and if they were alone, he would’ve reached for him.

“She’s so much hotter when she’s mad, isn’t she?” Gabriel cocked his head, throwing the doctor a look before winking at Castiel and Dean. Castiel gave his brother the smile he was looking for and he knew that the conversation was over.

The doctor gave Gabriel an acknowledging nod. “I’ll finish the paperwork and get you started with PT and OT. We will be moving you to the medical unit as well now that you’re stable enough to be out of the ICU.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Castiel nodded, giving her a smile as she squeezed Gabriel’s shoulder and picked up her clipboard before leaving the room.

“You know, Bobby had a spinal injury a few years back,” Dean broke the silence and Castiel held his breath, waiting to see where his mate was going with his story. “Wasn’t stabbed, but he was shot in the back. Was in a wheelchair for a long while…” Dean gave a sad smile. “I remember climbing onto his lap as a kid, begging him to race me and Sammy across the garage floor. Used to drive my dad nuts, probably Bobby a little bit too, but he would do it.”

“Bobby can walk now,” Gabriel said after a moment, his eyes flicking over to Dean’s face for a moment, then focusing back on his legs covered by the blankets.

“Yeah, he can,” Dean agreed, nodding his head. “When I was sixteen… that’s when my mom died. The Winter Hill Gang and the Patricolo Family have always been rivals, always fought over territory in Boston, and my dad made a choice that pissed them off.” Dean grimaces as he spoke and shook his head slowly. “Dad was out on a business trip with my Grandpa Campbell, and he always had a thing with us staying at home without him. My mom, Sammy, and I went to stay at Bobby’s house for the weekend and,” he took a shaky breath, eyes trained on the end of Gabriel’s bed, “I woke up one night just knowing… knowing something wasn’t right.”

Dean gave a short laugh and Castiel looked between his mate and his brother. Gabriel had done his research before they met the Winchesters, but to hear firsthand what had changed the structure of their family, what had gotten John and then Dean himself into their positions of power, was very different than a report from a newspaper.

“Whitey himself carried out the hit, you know,” Dean’s voice was thick, “I don’t think they ever printed that in the papers.” He swallowed roughly, and his brow furrowed in memory. “I went down the hall to check on Sammy who was still sleeping, before I went to see my mom. She wasn’t in her room so I went downstairs and found Bobby in his wheelchair and my mom sitting on the couch with Whitey Bulger standing over them, a gun to my mom’s head,” Dean’s voice was a whisper.

Cas leaned toward Dean as if to interrupt, but Dean’s voice held a very different tone as he resumed his story.

“‘You’d do well to learn this lesson boy,’” Dean imitated a thicker, South Boston accent, “‘you don’t fuck with the Irish.’ and then he shot her. Bobby tried to stop him,” he dropped his gaze to his hands, “saw it before I did, but there was something wrong with his wheels or something and he just… he just fell onto the ground. Mom stayed where she was, still sitting up, and even though I could see the blood on her head, I thought it was Bobby that had been shot…” Dean stopped, his hands shaking in his lap and Castiel shifted closer, pressing their sides together.

“Bobby was saying something,” Dean’s brow puckered remembering, “I think Sammy woke up from the gunshot because I remember him screaming on the stairs, and Whitey just,” Dean shuddered, “looked at me and smiled. ‘You tell your Daddy that there’s always a choice, he just happened to make the wrong fucking one.’ Then he left out the front door, leaving Bobby cursing on the floor, Sammy screaming behind me, and my mom bleeding out on the couch.”

“Dean-o…” Gabriel started, shaking his head slowly, but Dean cut him off.

“It was a long time ago, Gabe. Long time. Point is that _that_ was it. That was a turning point for my family. For me?” he leaned toward the Sovietnik, “It was when I realized that I could trust or not trust people to protect my family, but if something was happening and I just _stood_ there? People I loved were gonna get killed. For Sammy,” he shrugged, “it was that people leave, even those people you think will always be there, and my brother clings tight to everyone he meets, just in case they’re gone tomorrow. For my father, it was that the bottle can kill the pain, even if it’s temporary, and that revenge doesn’t really help you sleep better at night.

“But for Bobby?” Dean looked up and locked eyes with Gabriel. “For Bobby it was that he couldn’t coast anymore. He’d denied his injury, had accepted his fate, wasn’t going to put in the work when life had handed him that goddamn wheelchair and he would do his best with what he was given.”

Dean got up and walked toward the window. The overhead hum of the fluorescent lights the only sound that could be heard. Cas cleared his throat as he looked at his older brother. He looked back at Dean and was about to ask why he was telling them all this when Dean’s voice continued quietly.

“My grandfather fell apart at the loss of his daughter and Bobby watched my father take control, but my father was driven by revenge and rage and foolhardy decisions. He needed Bobby’s composed attitude to curb him, to temper him. But,” Dean turned to face the two brothers, “to do that, Bobby needed to keep up. So he put in the work, and it was damn hard for him. He’d spent eight years in that chair, everyone told him that his legs had atrophied too much to the point where walking would be impossible, that his injury was too old to heal.”

Dean shook his head with a fond smile. “Bobby was determined he was gonna prove them wrong. He started with leg supporting crutches, stumbling around the gym and garage as much as he could. Then he went to regular crutches, with braces in his boots to keep his ankles and calves straight. By the time I was eighteen,” he grinned remembering, “Bobby was just using a cane, and he might’ve been limping and a swift kick to his knees could take him out for hours, he was _walking_ when everyone he knew told him that he couldn’t.

“Right now, Gabe?” Dean retook his seat by Castiel, “They’re telling you that you _can_. They’re telling you there’s a very real possibility that a few weeks or days or whatever that doctor told you, in rehab will get you back up on your feet again and walking. Why on earth would you want to wait twelve years like Bobby, with the blood of your family on your hands?”

“Does… Bobby still use his cane?” Gabriel asked after a moment and Dean raised an eyebrow.

“Does it matter?”

Castiel watched as an array of emotions flickered across his older brother’s face, finally settling on one of determination. “Well, you know, I’m not as old as your Consigliere so it definitely won’t be taking me twelve years.”

Dean smiled and nodded his head, settling back against the chair and leaning slightly into Castiel’s body. “Good. I think Castiel would fire your ass way before then anyway.”

Gabriel nodded again, grunting as he shifted in the bed and reached for the buttons to help adjust himself. When he was comfortable, he his trademark shit-eating smirk back aimed directly at Dean.

“So… is my brother a bossy-bottom? Do you want any pups?” Gabriel fired out questions, not giving Dean a chance to answer and Castiel knew his brother was trying to bleed the uncomfortable tension from the room. “If Castiel _didn’t_ want pups, but you did, how would you handle that, Dean-o? Have you thought about how you’re going to run your mafia from way out in New York? I could kill you, you know, with my bare hands. Even in these casts! So if you think for one minute you’re taking him to Boston...”

Castiel watched as his mate got increasingly flustered with each question. By the end, Castiel was sure Gabriel was coming up with questions just to see if he could make Dean blush -- _How big is your knot, Dean-o, because my brother sure as hell deserves better than what half these Alphas are packing_ \-- and he interrupted Gabriel as he grabbed Dean’s arm to haul him up.

“Alright, curiosity has been satisfied, I am sure. Now, get some rest, Gabriel. Dean and I need to get ready to meet Crowley and you need to get ready to start rehab in the morning.”

“You’re such a buzzkill, Castiel,” Gabriel sighed dramatically but smiled, waving the both of them off. As they were at the door, Gabriel called after them, “Make sure you get an accurate measurement, Castiel! I still want to know if Dean’s going to satisfy you enough to make up for the past twenty some odd years!”

“Leave. Now.” Castiel shoved Dean’s arm hard, letting the door fall shut with a snap and cutting off anything else his brother wanted to yell after him. “You would think I would be too old to be embarrassed by my other brother…” he muttered as they got onto the elevator. Dean, to Castiel’s relief, chose to stay silent, laughing softly under his breath.

 

 

 

**Rufus & Bobby’s Hunting Cabin | Quaker Village Road | Weybridge, Vermont**

 

 

“Well that went well, I think.” Dean sighed as he shut and locked the cabin door behind them, following Castiel into the living room.

Castiel laughed as he placed the burgers and fries they picked up from the diner in town on the coffee table, shaking his head as he sat down. “I’m sorry about the intense interrogation... Gabriel can really get into it.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, sinking down next to his mate. “Ya think? I especially loved the numerous death threats with the explicit detail about all the ways he could kill me in between the completely inappropriate questions about our sex life.”

Castiel shook his head with a smirk playing on his lips. “Like he would need to kill you if you hurt me,” he snorted, “I'm plenty capable of doing it myself.”

Dean snorted and pulled Castiel into his arms, kissing him soundly before asking, “Do you want to eat in here while we watch TV?”

Castiel nodded, pulling the styrofoam containers closer to him so he could start opening them. “You go grab us a couple sodas and I will get our food ready.”

“Bossy Omega,” Dean muttered under his breath as he walked into the kitchen.

“What was that?” Castiel called out, smirking to himself as he popped open the second container.

Dean looked over his shoulder as he opened the refrigerator door, meeting Castiel’s eyes from the doorway. “I said, ‘okay sweetheart’.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow. “Mhm, that's what I thought you said.”

Dean joined Castiel on the couch and turned on the TV. He flipped through the channels, settling on reruns of Breaking Bad with a laugh. They ate in a comfortable silence and after the food was gone and the trash thrown away, Castiel curled up against his mate and took in his scent, letting it wash away all of his worries from Crowley coming to do an examination on him, to his problems with Bellucci and the traitors he had in the Bratva. For a short while he wanted to pretend _this_ was his life-- normal and carefree, take out burgers and drama television.

Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean's waist and snuggled closer, laying his head on his mate's shoulder. He nuzzled his mark on Dean’s throat before gently tracing it with his tongue. Dean huffed a small laugh. “What’re you doing?”

Castiel tipped his head up and ran his tongue along the shell of Dean’s ear before he replied, “We have a couple hours before Crowley gets here, I was trying to find a good way to pass the time.” 

“Are you seducing me, Cas?” Dean asked in an amused tone.

Castiel huffed against the Alpha’s throat. “Apparently I'm not doing a very good job if you have to ask me, Little Alpha.”

Dean growled in response and took hold of Castiel's hand, running it down his chest and over his hard cock trapped in his jeans. “Oh I would say you are doing just fine.” Dean moved Castiel's hand up and down his shaft. “And as you can tell, there is nothing _little_ about this Alpha.”

Castiel bit down hard on Dean’s throat just under his mark, drawing a hiss and then a groan from his mate. “Don't brag Dean, it's unbecoming.”

Castiel gasped as Dean gripped him hard and pulled him into his lap, Castiel's legs bracketing his mate's thighs. Dean wrapped his arms around Castiel's shoulders and pulled him into a bruising kiss that left them both breathless. “That's only if what you're bragging about isn't worth it. But clearly Cas, _this_ \--” Dean gripped Castiel's hips and rutted upwards, rubbing his hard cock against the Omega’s ass, “-- is worth bragging about.”

Castiel's eyes fluttered closed and a moan escaped his lips.

“Does that feel good, Cas?”

“Cocky Alpha,” Castiel replied, his voice cracking slightly with arousal.

Dean ran his hands up his mate's thighs, smirking as he did. “Yeah, and you know you love it... You know it turns you on.”

Castiel gripped Dean’s shirt and pulled them flush together, their faces mere inches apart. “Don't push it, puppy.”

Dean growled and gripped Castiel's hips again controlling his motions, making the Omega gyrate against his crotch. “A puppy couldn't fuck you as good as I do, baby.”

“And how do you know you were good _Alpha_?” Castiel teased breathlessly as he felt the first wave of slick leak from his hole. From the way Dean scented the air and growled again, the Omega knew he smelled it too.

“You did. The way you begged for my cock, for my knot. The way you screamed my name and told me to fuck you harder and faster. The way you get so damn wet for me, like you are now. I can smell you, Cas, so turned on for me already. That's how I know I was a good Alpha for you, your body told me all I needed to know.” Dean ran his hands from Castiel's hips to his ass, fingers pressing against the huge wet spot where his slick had soaked his jeans.

Dean groaned and looked up at Castiel, meeting his eyes. “I want you so bad, Cas. Tell me what you want. I will give it to you, I will give you anything.”

“You,” Castiel replied, the teasing long forgotten as his body began to thrum with want, with _need_. “I want you, Alpha.”

Dean growled and stood up lifting Castiel into the air. Castiel immediately wrapped his arms and legs around his mate as Dean carried him to their bedroom and dropped Castiel onto the bed before pouncing on top of him and ravaging his mate's mouth.

Castiel moaned as slick gushed from his hole. They moved in a frenzy, both of them fighting to get the other’s shirt off first. As Castiel tugged Dean’s shirt, buttons broke free and skittered across the hardwood floor, and Castiel broke the kiss, breathing heavily as he met his mate’s wide, lust filled eyes. Dean groaned once and leaned forward, kissing down Castiel’s jaw, nipping and sucking marks against his skin.

Castiel clawed at Dean’s shoulders, arching his body up against his mate’s. “Alpha, I want you. I want your cock in me, filling me up. I need it, need you, _Alpha._ ”

Castiel whined as Dean scented his throat, nosing at his mark before he shifted back and pulled off the Omega’s pants and boxer briefs before throwing them across the room. Dean pushed Castiel's legs apart and began kneading his ass cheeks, spreading them wide. Dean slipped both his thumbs into the Omega's hole, spreading it open, watching as slick poured out of him.

Dean rumbled low as he leaned in and began licking Castiel's opening, moaning against his skin. “You taste so good Cas, so sweet and delicious. I could eat you out for hours, ‘til you came over and over again, until you begged for me to fuck you.”

Castiel groaned and reached down, gripping Dean’s hair as he spread his legs wider, making his mate’s tongue go deeper. Fresh slick gushed from his body and Dean happily swallowed it down. The Alpha nipped at Castiel's thighs, licking his lips as he looked up to meet his eyes. “So hot for me Cas,” Dean praised as he moved to strip off his own pants and boxer briefs, his swollen cock bobbing free and leaking pre-come. Castiel groaned as his eyes trailed down Dean’s body, watching as Dean stroked himself once and gave the perfect view of his balls hanging heavy, filled with his seed and ready to be pumped into his Omega.

Castiel got up on his hands and knees, seductively presenting for his Alpha. He glanced over his shoulder when he felt the bed dip and was met with Dean’s hungry eyes. The Alpha positioned himself behind his mate, his hands finding their way to Castiel's hips as he lined up his cock and pushed into Castiel slowly.

Castiel gasped and moaned as his body adjusted to Dean’s intrusion. He flexed his muscles around his Alpha’s cock and then Dean started to move. Castiel made noises that would make a porn star blush. His hands clenched and unclenched in the sheets as his Alpha set a savage pace, fucking into him, and with each of the Dean’s thrusts, Castiel started to become more and more vocal.

“God, Alpha! You make me feel so good! I'm so wet! For you, all for you!” Slick was dripping from him, he could feel it sliding down the backs of his thighs, knew it was forming a puddle on the bed beneath them. “Fuck me harder! Alpha, harder! Want your huge knot! Knot me, Alpha!” Castiel shoved his hips back, meeting each of Dean’s thrusts, loving that Dean’s grip was tightening against his hips as Castiel moved with him.

Dean growled from behind and Castiel knew his sinful tongue was turning the Alpha on. He could feel Dean’s knot starting to fill, could feel it slamming against his ass, just starting to tug at his hole. “I feel it,” Castiel moaned, slamming his hips back. Dean’s fingernails dug into his skin and Castiel gasped. “I feel your knot swelling, I love when it pulls on my rim.”

“You want my knot, Cas?” Dean ground his hips, rubbing his knot against Castiel's hole as the tip of his cock pressed against Castiel's prostate.

The Omega arched his back and groaned dirtily. “Knot me, Alpha, knot me now!”

Dean gripped Castiel's hips harder and fucked into him hard, his movements hurried and losing their rhythm. He groaned as his knot popped past Castiel’s rim, swelling to its full size and locking them together. Castiel groaned as Dean rolled his hips, trying to push himself deeper, the rest of his body collapsing on Castiel’s back.

“Oh, God, yes!” Castiel keened as he felt his mate’s cock pulsing inside of him, his hot release erupting inside and filling him. Dean cried out, his left hand squeezing Castiel painfully while his right moved forward to wrap around his Omega’s cock. Within a few strokes, Castiel let out a low and dirty moan, his entire body freezing and tightening as he spilled his release over Dean’s hand and the sheets.

Dean shifted back and Castiel groaned as he heard Dean licking his release from each of his fingers, a low, satisfied growl vibrating through Dean’s entire body. Castiel looked over his shoulder and caught Dean’s eyes, the Alpha drawing the last finger from his mouth before he surged forward and captured Castiel's lips with his own. The Omega moaned as he tasted himself on Dean’s tongue.

After a moment, Dean guided them to the clean side of the bed, getting them comfortable as he shifted around for the blanket to cover them up. The Alpha groaned against the back of Castiel’s neck as Castiel moved and clenched around his knot, milking another orgasm from him.

Castiel huffed, “Sorry, Dean, I was trying to get comfortable.”

“Felt great, you can do it again if you like,” Dean teased back, pressing his nose beneath Castiel’s ear and breathing in deep.

Castiel went pliant in his mate's arms, his entire body relaxing as Dean wrapped around him and started carding his fingers through Castiel’s sweaty hair. Silence fell between them as they caught their breaths and their heart rates slowed back to normal.

Finally, Dean spoke, his hand still moving through Castiel’s hair, fingernails scratching gently at his scalp. “What are you thinking about, Cas?”

“Honestly?” Castiel answered.

Dean kissed Castiel on the shoulder, giving him a soft chuckle. “Yes, honestly, that's something I expect from our relationship, for us to always be honest and never keep secrets.”

Castiel sighed, nodding and trying to relax back into Dean’s arms again. “I… I was thinking about how I like it here. I like the privacy, I like the normalcy. And I know we have to leave. We have families to run and traitors to take care of, but,” he let out a small hum, “a part of me doesn't _want_ to. Here?” He craned his neck to see Dean, “It’s just you and me. We can be together, we can be ourselves. But there… when we leave, this will all be over. I will go back to pretending I'm an Alpha and we can't be open that we are mates.”

Dean ran his hand down Castiel's side, tugging him closer. “Cas, it won't be like that forever. Remember? We are going to change things.”

Castiel snorted softly. “It's a nice sentiment, Dean, and I know it’s what I said. But do you honestly think we can change the way things have always been? Do you think,” he let out a soft pained sigh, “that the Bratva is really going to accept that I'm an Omega? That I’ve deceived them since I was thirteen? Do you think our families are just going to accept our mating, the Italians and Russians?” Castiel took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I wanted you so badly Dean, I still do. But I was selfish... I have tied you to me, to a mate that can never really _be_ your mate. At least not the way you deserve. You tried to tell me… you fought to wait and I just didn’t listen. I pushed and now--”

“Don't!” Dean interrupted, “Don't you dare think like that! Don't you give up on me before we have even tried. Dammit, Castiel!”

Castiel could taste the frustration rolling off of his mate and it made his entire body tense.

Dean squeezed him tighter. “We are going to be together and we are going to be together openly. We _will_ change things because we are in charge. You are Castiel Krushnic, badass _Omega_ Pakhan of the Krushnic Bratva and your family will listen to you, just like mine will listen to me. You know why?” Castiel shook his head and Dean kissed the back of his head before he continued. “Because if they don't? We will _make_ them. You are my true mate and I will do anything to be with you. You got that?”

“Yes, I got it,” Castiel whispered.

Dean shifted and kissed his mate's cheek. “Good. Then it's settled. We fight for each other. No matter how hard it gets, we never quit.”

“I'm glad it was you, Dean,” Castiel whispered. “I'm glad you are my true mate.”

“Me too, Cas. I'm glad it's you, too.” They fell silent again, Castiel tracing small circles on Dean’s arm that was around his stomach. He felt Dean press his lips to the back of his head, felt his breath hot against the nape of his neck.

“Cas... I know it's not going to be easy. But nothing really worth it ever is.” Slowly, Dean pulled his arm free and positioned his wrist so they could both look at his watch. They sighed in tandem. “It's a little after seven, by the time my knot goes down we should have just enough time to clean up before Crowley gets here.”

Castiel nodded and reached for Dean’s arm again, hating the way he sounded when he asked, “Just… hold me until then, okay?” Dean nodded and held him tighter, as Castiel drifted off to sleep.

 

“Cas,” Dean whispered against Castiel’s ear, pressing his lips against his mate’s neck before he gently pulled back. His knot had deflated enough to separate them, and Castiel grumbled, unhappy, as Dean slipped free and shifted away from him. “Come on, we have to get ready for Crowley.”

“Do we have to?” Castiel mumbled, pressing his face deeper into the pillow so that his words were muffled.

“Unless you want Crowley to come in here while you’re spread out across the bed looking freshly fucked… then yeah, we have to,” Dean chuckled back and patted his mate’s ass a few times. Castiel threw him a glare over his shoulder but pushed up and slid off the bed, beating Dean to the bathroom and letting the door shut with a snap before Dean reached it.

“I’ll meet you downstairs, Princess!” Dean called through the door, earning himself a ‘Fuck you!’ over the sound of the shower turning on. Dean grabbed himself a fresh set of clothes and moved downstairs to the half bath to clean up and change quickly. He tidied up around the small space, wondering when the hell he became so goddamned domestic, and put on a pot of coffee.

By the time he put three mugs, sugar, and cream onto the table, someone was knocking on the door.

 “Cas!” he called up the stairs as he made his way to the front door, stopping at the side table by the door to pick up his gun. He pulled back the curtain just enough to see a short, stocky man in what had to be a black cashmere coat and gleaming leather gloves. Dean watched as the man scratched his beard thoughtfully, a smirk spreading over his lips.

“You can drop the gun, darling. I’m only here to help.” The man’s voice had a recognizable British lilt. Dean reached for the door, narrowing his eyes immediately when he realized the man before him was an Alpha.

“Oh, calm down Kitty Kat,” Crowley almost purred as he gave Dean the once over, smirking as he dropped a black leather bag to the floor and started pulling off his gloves and overcoat revealing a black, tailored suit complete with a black button up shirt and a blood red tie. “I can practically feel the tension rolling off you. You’re giving me knots.” He reached up, rubbing at the back of his neck for emphasis and his smirk widened. “Though I suppose Castiel is the only one to whom you are really giving knots.”

“Listen here,” Dean growled out but was cut off as Castiel came down the stairs and interrupted their impromptu standoff.

“Crowley, cut the crap. Dean, tone it down.” His voice was sharp, leaving no room for negotiation. After throwing a quick look to his mate, Castiel knew just how unimpressed he already was with his ‘Doctor’. Dean took a step back and thrust his arm out to the side, welcoming Crowley into the house.

“Charming, isn’t he?” Crowley asked in greeting as he shook Castiel’s hand and the three of them made their way into the kitchen where Dean had set up their coffee. He nodded as Castiel lifted up the pot and the room was silent except for the sound of the liquid hitting the bottom of their cups.

Dean watched Crowley carefully, wondering how he was going to take his coffee. You could tell a lot about a man by the way he drank his coffee. Crowley stirred the pot of cream, sniffing it once before passing it over to Castiel and picking up his mug to drink his coffee black.

“Like his soul,” Dean muttered, dropping half a teaspoon of sugar into his coffee and then accepting the cream and glare from Castiel when he realized he’d spoken out loud.

“Again, you snagged quite the charmer, Castiel.” He lifted his mug in salute. “And he’s your true mate! Lucky you, those are quite rare to find. To be honest, you are the first pair I’ve had the pleasure of working with in all my years in medicine.” Crowley smiled over his coffee, winking at Dean before turning completely in his seat to face the Omega. “You reek of sex. That’s something new.” He grinned with a glimmer in his eye.“And I have to say, I didn’t picture you as a blossom of any sort. Seems almost… delicate for your quite gruesome nature, don’t you think?”

“You didn’t know what his scent was before you started working with him?” Dean huffed, shaking his head.

“No,” Crowley replied, eyes still locked on Castiel’s face. “Castiel’s father had me do a blood test to determine his lineage and it came back before he officially presented. We started him on suppressants right away, and therefore,” his gaze flicked over to Castiel, “our dear Omega has never experienced a heat. Until now of course.”

“Those tests are illegal!” Dean knew that Castiel had been on suppressants for a while, had known he hadn’t had a heat before, but he never took the time to think about what it actually meant. A simple blood test would not be enough to determine a gender, it had to be taken from bone marrow, could only be determined from stem cells. Dean knew from the few classes he paid attention to at school that the practice had been outlawed in the late 19th century when families were selling their Omega children off and that meant the procedure was usually done incorrectly and was incredibly painful.

Crowley turned then, pinning Dean with a cool stare. “You are a crime lord, are you not?”

Dean felt his face flush hot and he tore his eyes away to look at Castiel who, much to Dean’s dismay, looked slightly amused.

“It was a long time ago, and not the point,” he said softly, giving Dean a smile. “So, yes,” he pinned his gaze on Crowley, “I experienced my first heat.” Castiel stated changing the subject. “Gabriel seems to think that I need to have an examination.”

“And he was right, but first let me take a look at your marks.” Crowley's lips curled into a lecherous smirk. “Let's hope for the sake of your Alpha’s dignity you didn't place it anywhere naughty.” Dean huffed and pulled down his shirt collar revealing his mark. Crowley stood and walked over examining it before he turned to Castiel. “Now you.” Crowley then examined the Omega’s before he took his seat again. “Very nice, clean, and neat. Those will heal nicely.” 

Castiel shifted in his seat, already uncomfortable. “What now?”

Crowley cleared his throat. “Well, after an Omega’s first heat they are always checked out, make sure everything is looking okay.” He took a deep sip of his coffee. “Most young teenagers haven’t even thought about a knot, never mind used a fake one. There are usually many… complications. Of course,” he looked fondly at the Pakhan, “that isn’t my concern with you, Castiel. You’ve experienced pseudo heats for over twenty years now, but never a shedding which should happen every two or three heats, and,” he pursed his lips, “you’ve just spontaneously come off your suppressants which makes you incredibly fertile.”

Dean saw Castiel’s entire body stiffen and his own eyes widened as he stared at the back of Crowley’s head. Pups? How the fuck had he not even _considered_ the fact that Castiel was in heat and he was in a rut and that usually meant conception? They couldn’t even be completely open about their mating, how the hell would they hide the fact that Castiel was an Omega if he was swollen with their pups?

Dean felt his heart beat increasing and he wanted, more than anything, to turn and look at Castiel. But he felt stuck, his eyes glued to the back of Crowley’s stupid head, guilty at the flare of hope that ran through him, despite how completely _not_ ready they were for pups.

“No!” Castiel let out a string of what had to be Russian curses. Dean couldn’t understand a single word, but his mate’s anger made him cringe. “I ran out to see to Gabriel! I didn’t even think about bringing my suppressants! _Blyad'!_ I didn’t bring fucking protection!” Castiel let out another incomprehensible string of words. “God in Heaven! I didn’t anticipate this, Crowley! I didn’t want or expect to go into heat or get mated!” Castiel’s rage brought Dean out of his thoughts and he flinched again as he looked over at his mate.

“Wow!” Crowley echoed Dean’s own thoughts and Castiel’s expression immediately crumbled.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Dean.” He looked apologetically at his mate. “I am glad we’re mated. I’m glad that I found you. I wouldn’t trade being with my true mate for anything. I just…” he let out a soft sigh, “this isn’t what I anticipated, what either one of us anticipated, and as happy as I am? It will… still takes some getting used to.”

Dean nodded but picked up his coffee to save him from answering. Crowley, for his part, seemed to thrive on the tension and he smiled, taking a huge gulp of his coffee before placing it down and clapping his hands together.

“Well!” Crowley smoothed down his tie, “I say we get this show in the road! I’ll need to do a quick exam, making sure your parts are all working and feeling the way they should, and then,” he shot both men a grin, “we will talk about suppressants. What do you say?”

Castiel was quiet for a moment and Dean looked up again, trying to figure out what his mate was thinking.

“What… are the chances?”

“Of…? You’re going to have to be more specific, Castiel.” Crowley shook his head, reaching forward and twisting his coffee mug in his hands. “Pregnancy? Tumors? Irreparable damage thanks to the years of heavy duty suppressants and birth control? Please, my dear Pakhan, take your pick.”

“Of pregnancy. What are the chances of pregnancy,” Castiel answered and Dean felt his heart beat speed up again. They were both looking at Crowley and the older man sighed, biting on his lower lip as if contemplating the correct answer. For the first time since being with Castiel, from hitting on a stranger at the bar to business partners or mates, Dean felt like they weren’t on the same page. Like they were both holding their breath for a different answer. It made him feel anxious, and he forced himself to keep his features schooled.

He wanted to laugh. In a way, it felt like he was in a torture room, trying not to give away too much information too soon, or any information at all. The only problem was he didn’t know which role he played right then -- the torturer or the poor son of a bitch strapped down to a chair.

“In normal cases…” Crowley said slowly and Dean held his breath. “Highly likely. But you are not a normal case, Castiel. You are anything _but_. I have never had a patient on long term suppressants without complications long before now, so,” he rolled his mug between his hands, “I cannot give an honest answer to your question. I do, however, think a bouncing bundle of joy might do wonders for that family of yours. They seem a bit… divided as of late. Kids always bring people together, don’t you think?” Crowley looked over his shoulder at Dean who glared back at him in response.

“In any case, I won’t know much of anything until I take a look-see. So…?”

“I’ll be right back, Dean.” Castiel pushed out of his chair and Crowley followed suit, leaving Dean sitting in his chair surrounded by their half empty mugs of coffee.

“Are you sure you don’t want--”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Castiel answered him quickly, cutting him off. “I’ll be fine on my own. We’ll be right back.”

Dean turned in his seat to watch as Castiel led Crowley to the downstairs bedroom, surprisingly grateful he didn’t chose to take him to the bedroom they’d been using. When the door shut, Dean slowly turned back around and finished his coffee before pouring himself another. He took his time preparing it, wondering how long it would actually take until they were back.

He felt strangely left out, like he was missing out on something, which was ridiculous because he knew that Castiel would tell him anything that Crowley found. Which, of course, would be nothing. There was nothing wrong with his mate. Castiel was healthy. Though Crowley’s words made Dean nervous about the pair of them starting on suppressants. It had been a long time since Castiel had been on them, and on the one hand, he knew his mate had never even entertained the idea of being mated or having pups of his own. But now that he _was_ mated and even though they hadn’t talked about pups… The health risks alone made him wonder if going back on the suppressants was a good idea for his mate.

After three cups of coffee, Dean carried all the mugs to the sink to rinse them, knowing neither Crowley nor Castiel would be looking for a cold cup. He made himself busy preparing another pot and then sighed as he leaned against the counter, waiting for it to brew.

When the bedroom door finally opened, Dean tried to make himself not look as interested as he felt. He was about to ask if anyone wanted a hot cup of coffee when Castiel stormed into the kitchen, anger rolling off of him.

“What the hell?” Dean crossed the kitchen in three long strides and grabbed his mate’s arm. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“He’s tip top!” Crowley answered for him. “Doesn’t like when he doesn’t get his way, but otherwise completely healthy.”

Dean looked between them and then settled his gaze on Castiel. “Cas… what’s wrong?”

“He won’t give me any suppressants,” Castiel hissed, glaring at Crowley before tearing his arm away from Dean and sitting down at the table again. “Not until I can pass a pregnancy test.”

Dean nodded slowly, biting back his initial response. “Um…” Right. Good answer, Winchester.

“You can survive two weeks without it, Castiel. I’ve provided some protection to use until then. I have cologne for both of you--” Crowley reached down into his bag and pulled out two glass bottles. They had different colored tops, but otherwise looked the same. “This will negate your mating scent, and the true scent, leaving your natural Alpha room to run free.” He handed the first vial to Dean. “Castiel, I had this compounded. It has both a scent blocker as well as the Spruce cologne you’re used to getting.”

“Will that be enough for us to go home? I mean, without Cas on suppressants…” Dean accepted the second bottle when Castiel refused to move.

“Castiel’s heat should be on a regular schedule. He’s met and bonded with his true mate, so nothing should set him off early. I can come by the place you call a ‘club’ in two weeks to do the pregnancy test and then I can get you on suppressants.” Crowley’s words were aimed at Castiel, but he was speaking straight to Dean.

“Yeah, sounds good.” Dean nodded his head and glanced over at Castiel. “Um… if we need anything else we’ll call you?”

Crowley gave a short laugh and picked up his bag once more, carrying it with him over to the front door to put on his gloves and coat. “It’s been a pleasure, really,” he said in parting and Dean nodded him off, watching as the Alpha got into his car and backed out of the driveway.

When the tail lights were gone, Dean locked the front door and moved back into the kitchen where Castiel was still sitting, arms crossed tightly over his chest. Dean watched him for a moment, trying to bite back a laugh at the fact the Pakhan was sitting in Bobby’s hunting cabin _pouting_ for not getting his way.

“Well… that went well.”

 Dean was immediately pinned with an icy stare and if it had been anyone else, he _might_ have felt intimidated. He raised an eyebrow staring right back at his mate who said, “Shut up. Get upstairs now, Winchester.”

 “Why?” Dean’s brow furrowed in confusion. Castiel unfolded himself and crossed the space between them, fingers catching the front of Dean’s shirt as he yanked them together.

“Because I can still feel his fingers inside of me, that’s why.” Castiel’s voice rasped laden with checked fury and desire. “Because if you don’t get upstairs before I do, it will be my own fingers inside of me instead of your knot. Because I fucking asked you to--”

Dean twisted away from Castiel and all but ran for the stairs. He heard Castiel wait a beat and then race after him, the two of them falling into a tangle on top of the mattress the moment they reached the bedroom.

“You know,” Dean said against Castiel’s lips as he kissed him deeply. “I think I’m supposed to chase you.”

“Shut up and fuck me, Dean,” Castiel growled back against his mouth. Not one to argue, Dean followed his directions to a T.

 

 

 

**Monument Farms | James Road | Weybridge, Vermont**

 

Dean looked down into the shopping bag he carried and smiled to himself. He may have gone a little over board-- he and Castiel had agreed on spending only one more night in Vermont before they headed back to New York to deal with Lucifer, but Monument Farms’ dairy was just _that_ good.

He remembered walking down the street with Sammy when they’d been lucky enough to get to go with Bobby and Rufus to the cabin. It was usually in the summers when the Alphas couldn’t do any hunting, only fishing and they didn’t have school. And when they started training the boys to shoot, they would each get a pint of cream. For Dean, it had been so rich and sweet, he would drink it straight from the carton, earning himself a disgusted look from Sammy which really, was what made it worth it.

Today, he bought a carton of cream and milk, some fresh eggs and peaches from Marjory James’ farm stand and was stupidly excited to make breakfast for his mate when he got back to the cabin.

It was nearly a straight shot up Quaker Village Road and Dean had thought about jogging it that morning. If Sammy were here, he definitely would have. They used to race the two miles down to the farm up until Dean was gifted the Impala. After Mary died, they had too much responsibility to their father to even think about spending summers at the cabin.

Dean slid into the front seat of his baby and plopped the bag of dairy down beside him on the passenger seat. He started up the engine, patting down the steering wheel as he listened to her purr before he pulled out of the parking lot and back onto the road. As he pulled into the driveway, he felt his heart drop as he saw a car he didn’t recognize parked in his spot.

“God dammit!” he swore as he slammed the Impala into park and tore out of the car and up to the cabin door. It was unlocked and Dean was barely in the door before he was yelling for Cas.

“He’s in the shower.”

Dean stopped short and spun towards the living room, confused to see Sam sitting on the couch, sporting a bitch-face if he ever saw one.

“Sammy? What are you doing here?” Sam glared back at him and Dean took a few steps forward only to be slammed backwards as Sam stood and shoved him hard.

“What the fuck Dean! Don’t you know how to answer a goddamn fucking phone? You don’t… you don’t even… Fuck!” Sam swore, lashing out at Dean again, his hands shaking. Dean snapped his arms forward, catching Sam’s fists and pulling his brother in to his chest.

“Will you calm the hell down and tell me what your problem is?” Dean asked, holding tighter as Sam struggled against him.

“You would fucking know,” Sam yelled, “if you answered your fucking phone!” He ripped himself away from Dean, his chest heaving and his eyes shining as he stared at his brother from a few feet away. Dean stared back at him, cringing at the anger and sadness he felt from his brother. Then, like Sam had been shot, he crumpled.

“Sam!” Dean fell to his knees, catching his brother as Sam clung to his chest, his entire body now shaking. “Sam, what the fuck happened?”

“He’s dead, Dean. A few days after you left, Rufus and I realized that Bobby and Gordon hadn’t gotten back to Boston yet. So we asked around, checked Bobby’s house, looked in all of Gordon and Bobby’s hangouts… there wasn’t any sign of them, no one had seen them. So...” Sam swallowed hard, shaking his head. “Rufus contacted the Bratva to ask them and I… took a drive.”

Sam swallowed convulsively to either keep his sobs at bay or to keep from puking. He pulled back and there was a searing sadness in his eyes. “It was his stupid hat, Dean. That stupid trucker hat he wore, even though it looked awful with his suits, and even though he would bitch at us for having anything out of place or wearing anything that didn’t match. It was on the side of the highway.” He looked down at his hands. “To anyone else,” his voice was nearly a whisper, “it would look like it flew out a window or something like that. But I knew, Dean,” he locked his gaze on his brother, “I just knew it in my gut.”

Dean stared at Sam and could feel his head shaking slowly. There was no way… there was just no way that Bobby… “Sam, I don’t understand what you’re saying,” Dean said softly, keeping his eyes on Sam’s.

“He was there, Dean. Just down the embankment. He was left there, like he didn’t matter, like he was nothing but trash. That son of a bitch just--”

“Sam, we don’t know it was Gordon…”

“Fuck you, Dean! Of course we know it was Gordon! Bobby was shot executioner style, left there to rot like he was a traitor!” Sam’s body trembled with rage. “Other crime families might want to kill us, but they would have the decency to send us the body! Send us a message of some kind! _This_ was Gordon, Dean, and if you can’t fucking see that then you’re… You’re…” Sam trailed off, clamping his mouth shut as he clenched his hands into fists. “It was Gordon. I _feel_ it.”

Dean stared at Sam and nodded once. He felt Castiel’s presence as his mate slowly entered the room, but neither of the brothers moved from their spot on the floor. Dean focused on Sam, focused on rubbing soothing circles across his brother’s back, comforting him like he used to when they were children. Focusing on Sam gave him something to do, gave him a reprieve from thinking about his own feelings.

“We need to kill him, Dean. We need to make him burn for what he did to Bobby.” Sam’s voice was like steel and Dean closed his eyes for a moment, trying to curb the initial ‘Fuck yes’ he had in response.

“Sam… Bobby would tell us to be careful of revenge. Look what it did to Dad…”

“Bobby’s dead, Dean.” Sam straightened up, swiping his tears away. “ _Bobby_ will never get to tell us anything again! And I am not going to let that fucking asshole get away with it! He broke Omerta and he _murdered_ Bobby!” Sam hissed back, finally ripping himself away from Dean. “If you’re too much of a coward to do something about it, then I will!”

“Watch it!” Dean glared at Sam who stared him back, challenging, until finally his face fell and he tore his eyes away. “I get that you’re upset Sammy, me probably more than anyone. But it would not be wise to forget who you are talking to.”

Sam swallowed hard and nodded, his eyes still trained on the floor between them. After a moment he spoke. “This can’t go unanswered, Dean.” He looked his brother in the eye. “He attacked his family. Gordon is bad news, and he needs to be dealt with.”

Dean looked up as Castiel crossed silently through the living room, sinking down onto the couch Sam had been sitting on and meeting Dean’s eyes. “Yeah, Sammy, I know. I think we all need to do a bit of cleaning house.”

Castiel nodded his agreement.

“So… let’s get started.”


	8. You Can’t Handle The Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Brat_ \- Brother  
>  _Blya Bellucci, on pokoynik!_ \- Fucking Bellucci, he's a dead man!  
>  _Budet vyglyadet' kak detskaya igra_ \- will look like childs play.  
>  _Chernaya Komnata_ \- Black Room  
>  _izmennik_ \- traitor  
>  _Kogda ya zakonchu s vami, chto vy sdelali brat Gabriel_ \- What you did to our brother Gabriel  
>  _Krushnic, razgovory_! - Krushnic, talk!  
>  _Lisus grebanyy khrista Castiel_! - Jesus fucking christ Castiel!  
>  _moy istinnyy krasivyy pomoshchnik kapitana_ \- My true beautiful handsome mate.  
>  _O, Lucifer, moy dorogoy brat_ \- Oh Lucifer my dear brother  
>  _Otkryt' shirokiy Bol'shoy brat_. - Open wide big brother  
>  _Otlichno! Vstretimsya v klube, v garazhe_. - Excellent! Meet me at the club. In the garage.  
>  _Pizda_ \- Cunt  
>  _Poshel na khuy, Castiel! Eto vse, chto vy poluchili_? - Fuck you, Castiel! Is that all you got?  
>  _Sdelay eto Castiel. On ne sobirayetsya govorit', tol'ko zakonchit' eto uzhe. My budem vyyasnit', yesli yest' kakiye-libo drugiye izmenniks_. - Do it Castiel. He's not going to talk, just end it already. We will figure out if there are any other traitors.  
>  _Trus_ \- Coward  
>  _ya tol'ko nachal_ \- I’m just getting started  
>  _Zakhodi_ \- Come in

_**“A man who doesn’t spend time with his family can never be a man.”-- Don Corleone** _

 

 

 

**Rufus & Bobby’s Hunting Cabin | Quaker Village Road | Weybridge, Vermont**

 

 

Dean sat in the living room talking with Sam while Cas busied himself in the kitchen. As soon as his mate walked back into the room, Dean’s attention was drawn to him and he watched as Castiel handed out mugs before sitting in the recliner with one of his own.

Dean sniffed the drink and scrunched his nose up. “What is this shit?”

Castiel raised an eyebrow. “It's tea. I made it with the cream you bought.”

“I don't like --”

“Shut up and drink the tea, Dean.”

Dean huffed but did as his mate said, slightly grimacing at the taste.

Sam snorted as he took a sip of his. “I know who's going to wear the pants in this relationship,” he mumbled, earning a glare from his older brother. Sam leaned forward and set the cup down on the coffee table, ignoring Dean’s look as he flicked his finger between the two of them. “So... you two, huh?”

Dean smiled, suddenly forgetting the need to be annoyed with Sam, and pulled down his shirt collar, showing Sam his mark. “Yup, mated and claimed.”

Sam wrung his hands together and Dean could tell he was choosing his next words carefully. “How are you two going to--” Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly, “Just... how?”

Dean placed his hand on Castiel's knee. “Secretly… at first. Castiel's doctor, Crowley, came last night and gave us special cologne to hide our mated scent.”

Sam looked at the mated pair. “So you two plan on letting the families know about your claims? Eventually?”

Dean nodded. “Yes, Cas is my true mate, Sam. I'm not going to keep him a secret for long. I don't want to hide, I want to be with him.”

Sam nodded back and chewed on his bottom lip. “So Castiel... how do you think the Bratva will take the news?”

Castiel sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “I have lied to them over half my life, Sam. You know the Mafia’s views on Omegas...” He gripped his mug, shaking his head in disgust. “How do you think they will take the news? I will be seen as a liar and traitor and they will want my head.”

Dean growled at the thought of anyone hurting his mate. “No one will lay a hand on you Cas. Omega or not, you are in charge. And like we agreed, _we are making changes,_ and we’re starting within our families.”

Cas placed his hand over his mate's and nodded.

Sam waited a pause and then cleared his throat, drawing attention back to him. By the look on his face, Dean could tell it was time to get down to business. “You guys need to get back to New York now. Both families are in a state of chaos with their leaders MIA.” Sam scrubbed his hands down his face. “The day after Bobby...” He shook his head and Dean could tell he was trying to ground himself before he continued.

“The day after we found Bobby, Bellucci retaliated against our attack on his warehouse. There was a large shipment of AKs scheduled to come in to the docks for the Family. The Bratva,” he looked over at Castiel, “sent Ephraim and Inias and I,” his eyes flicked back over to Dean, “sent Frank and Chuck.”

Both of them nodded and murmured their agreement on the choices. Sam snorted in response.

“They were good choices, yeah. Great choices. And Bellucci's men slaughtered them in broad fucking daylight.” Sam shook his head, swallowing hard as his voice lowered. “He’s thrown caution to the wind. He’s stopped caring. There was a firefight between some of the police that showed up that they hadn’t paid off, and _then_ they took the shipment!”

“Sonovabitch!” Dean leaned toward his brother and scrubbed a tired hand over his unshaven chin. Sam mirrored his actions and Dean’s eyes flicked over to see Castiel was just as angry as the brothers.

“It get’s better.” Sam gave a dry laugh and ticked his head to work out a nervous kink. “When we went down to the warehouse after hours with a few of the cops on the Bratva’s payroll, ‘This is just the beginning’ was written in blood on the front of the container. I’m not sure if there was anything else left behind,” Sam let out a frustrated sigh. “I don’t have much pull with the NYPD and since clean cops were involved, everything was taken in for evidence.”

Castiel clenched his fists. “ _Blya Bellucci, on pokoynik!_ ”

Dean swore under his breath and reached for Castiel’s knee, giving it a squeeze. “English, Cas. Sammy and I don’t know what the hell you’re saying.”

He understood the frustration, however. Getting police involved was the last thing any of them needed. It was always complicated, messy, and ended up with innocent people getting killed.

“We need to kill him,” Castiel seethed, “We need to stop fucking around and take him out!”

Dean sighed, shaking his head. “The list just keeps growing; Bellucci, Lucifer, Gordon.”

Castiel turned to face his mate, his expression stormy. “You _did_ say we needed to clean house.” Sam nodded his agreement, leaning tiredly back into the couch.

Dean reached for his cup, taking another sip. He made a face once he remembered it wasn't coffee but tea. Castiel rolled his eyes and took the cup from his mate's hands and began to drink it himself. “Anything else happen while Cas and I were out of commission?”

“Actually yeah.” Sam pulled himself back up. “Michael called me for a meeting at _Padshiye Angely_ yesterday. He questioned me about your whereabouts, Dean.” He glanced over at Cas, continuing, “Said it was funny that you and Castiel were both unaccounted for.” He frowned, remembering. “He didn't come out and say it, but he implied you may have had something to do with Castiel missing.”

“Michael?” Castiel didn’t hide his surprise.

Dean growled, pissed at the implication that he could ever hurt his mate. Sam held up his hand trying to calm Dean down. “I told him you went out to search for Gordon and that if either one of us knew where Castiel was, he would be the first person we told. I'm pretty sure he believed me.”

“What is Michael doing calling meetings?” Castiel’s eyes were narrowed in thought as he tried to keep his anger in check.

“Well,” Sam cleared his throat and suddenly looked nervous. “It seems, in your absence, he’s taken over the daily affairs. Says he’s been looking for Lucifer, you, and Gabriel.” Cas’ brows rose in a combination of surprise and anger. Sam nodded in agreement. “Mmhmm, after torturing one of Bellucci's main men for information, he found out that Lucifer was in league with Bellucci and that Lucifer had kidnapped Gabriel to get him on their side. He found out that Lucifer’s plan was to torture Gabriel for information about you,” he nodded at the Pakhan, “and your weaknesses if he didn’t agree to join their side. Michael put out a search for Gabriel’s body.”

“Well, then,” Castiel crossed his arms over his chest, “it's a good thing I don't have any weaknesses.” He looked over at Sam with a cocky grin.

Dean smirked and playfully bumped his shoulder with his mate's. Castiel turned and scowled at him, fighting the faint smile that wanted to spread across his lips. “That's _my_ badass Omega.”

“Right, well, as much as the eye fucking is adorable and all, we need to make a move.” Sam rolled his eyes, earning himself a glare from Dean and Castiel. “What’s it going to be?”

“Well, Castiel and I got what we needed from Crowley… so I guess we are ready to go.” Dean glanced over at Castiel who nodded slowly. “Vacation’s over.”

Sam snorted and shook his head. “I’m glad. You can be in charge, I am over it.” Dean rolled his eyes this time and looked down at the empty mugs on the table.

“So, Bobby…”

“He’s back in Boston,” Sam whispered, “I have him with Alastair right now…” Dean watched as his brother swallowed back the sudden swell of emotion, keeping his expression set to pure business. “We’ll give him the right send off. I was thinking up here, someplace he loved. The city is home, but it’s business, not pleasure. He should be out here.”

“I agree.” Dean sighed. “Once this crap settles, we’ll get Rufus and come out here with Bobby. Is Rufus--”

“Yeah, I promoted him to Bobby’s spot for now. Everyone knows it’s technically temporary until your say so, but I think everyone knows he’d be your pick anyway.”

Silence fell over them and it was Castiel that broke it.

“Alright… I need to show my face, let my brother know what is going on and figure out what we’re going to do about the _izmennik._ ” Dean raised an eyebrow and Castiel gave an apologetic smile at noticing his mate’s confusion. “Sorry, the traitors in my family, in yours. Lucifer and company.” Castiel clenched his fists and Dean nodded once. He couldn’t imagine what Castiel was feeling. If Sam had betrayed him the way Lucifer had...

“Guess that’s a word I should get to know, huh?” He looked at his mate, trying the word out for himself, “Izzmnenn…”

“ _Iz–meyn-nyik_ ,” Cas pronounced it slowly, “means traitor.” He let out a soft sigh. “I know you have one of your own, but it’s a word that neither of us should have to know.” He grinned almost shyly at his mate, “I’d rather you learned to say _moy istinnyy krasivyy pomoshchnik kapitana_.”

Dean nodded thoughtfully. “And what does that one mean?”

Cas grinned and melded himself close to his mate. Dean held his breath as Castiel got closer, his breath warm against Dean’s ear. He could feel his mate’s smile as he whispered, “My true, beautiful, handsome mate,” and couldn’t help the smile that spread across his lips. Across from them, Sam groaned out loud as Dean reached for Cas’ hand and kissed the back of it, suddenly realizing that this would be the last time for a long time that they would be able to show affection so openly. When he pulled back, he winked at Sam, knowing that through the posturing, his brother was truly happy for him.

“I’ll pack our bags.” Dean pushed off of the couch and nodded once to Sam, giving Cas a wink before he left the room. As he started up the stairs he heard Sam telling Castiel he would help clean up the place so they could lock it up.

Dean looked around the small master bedroom that he and Castiel had been sharing for over a week and sighed. The moment they left this place, all hell was going to break loose. For a moment, Dean wished that he could have a normal life, wished he hadn’t just spent the past hour listening to how the closest thing he had to a father was murdered and how people he’d trusted, people Castiel trusted, were against them. He wished his brother could be home with his new mate and they could all be planning a vacation out to the cabin instead of being forced to hide in it because of a hit on his mate’s head.

Once they left the cabin, Dean knew he couldn’t be Dean anymore.

He shoved all of their clothes and the toiletries they had spread around the room and bathroom into the duffel bag, and tidied up the space so that it would be set for the next time they were there. By the time he was finished, Castiel and Sam had finished downstairs and Castiel was busy hooking his gun into his holster at the door.

Dean accepted his piece from Sam and opened the door for his brother and mate. He locked the door and pulled it shut, taking a moment to stare at the closed door before he turned around to head to the Impala. Dean was left behind, now he was Don Winchester, leaving with his underboss and the Pakhan of the New York Bratva.

“Let’s finish this,” he said over the top of the Impala and Castiel nodded, his face set as he slid into the passenger seat. Dean caught Sam’s eye as he slipped into his rental and waited a moment before he started up the engine and peeled out down the driveway, with Sam following him close behind.

 

 

 

_ _

_  
**Padshiye Angely**_ **\- Night Club | Brightwater Avenue | Brighton Beach, New York**

 

Castiel parked in his usual spot, glancing over at Dean who was staring deep in thought out the window. They had driven five hours, stopping at Castiel’s house once they got into the city. They unpacked their things and while Dean went to start their laundry, Castiel ordered them all lunch. They’d eaten in relative silence before Castiel declared he was heading to the club to see Michael and Dean insisted on going with him, needing to do something other than stare at his younger brother working on his laptop searching for Gordon. But since they’d gotten into the car, Dean had been uncharacteristically quiet.

“Hey,” Castiel said softly, leaning forward to catch Dean’s attention. “I… Look, about Bobby…”

“I know, Cas,” Dean answered just as softly and shook his head before giving Cas a small smile. “Can't think about it right now. Leave my shit at the door, right?”

Castiel nodded after a moment and reached for the keys, pulling them out of the ignition. “Well, we have plenty of other shit to deal with on the other side of your metaphorical door.”

“Now ain't that the truth,” Dean muttered and looked back out the window. “So… Who are we looking for here?”

“Well, I doubt Lucifer would be stupid enough to come here but I want to check his office, just in case. He's always been good at keeping things hidden though…” He let out a small sigh. “He's my brother but even I couldn't crack half his codes. We might find something and not even know that it is something.”

Castiel looked back at the door leading to the club and gave a half shrug. “Michael might be here, too. I should, at least, show him that I am very much alive and get caught up on what's been happening. Sam knows a lot, but he's not family--”

“Well, technically…”

Castiel rolled his eyes and continued. “He's _my_ family, but not _Bratva_ , so Michael wouldn't feel obligated to share anything with him. Michael may know something more about Bellucci, Lucifer, Gordon, or any other goddamn moles there might be.”

“Well, let’s do this then,” Dean said as he reached for the door handle and pushed it open. Castiel nodded and got out of the car, meeting Dean at the backside. For a moment, he wanted to reach for his mate. He forced the feeling down, wondering where the hell that had come from.

Castiel led Dean through the club, waving off questions from the staff that worked there as well as the bykis that were posted. When Castiel reached his door he noticed it was ajar and the lights were on. He glanced over at Dean and motioned to his gun before he removed his own from his holster and kicked the door open, training his gun on the intruder.

Michael, who was sitting at Castiel’s desk, jumped and cursed, “ _Lisus grebanyy khrista_ Castiel!”

Castiel sighed and lowered his weapon. “What are you doing in here, Michael?”

Michael raised an eyebrow and stared at Castiel like he had more than one head. Finally, his older brother barked out a laugh and stood. “What am I doing in here, Castiel? What am I doing in here? I don’t know… looking for clues as to where you were! Trying to lead this Bratva since you went missing!” Michael’s voice slowly rose with each word until he was almost yelling across the desk. “Trying to keep every damn person that comes to me asking where their Pakhan is and if they should be worried, calm! Do you know how hard it is to lie to your family every single day, Castiel? Do you? Because that is what I have had to do for _you_! Because I wasn’t important enough for you to call and tell that you were alright!” Michael took a deep breath, concern etched into his face, and asked, “Where were you? What were you doing?”

His eyes trailed over Castiel’s shoulders and he glared at Dean before he snapped his gaze back to his brother, anger back. “Don Winchester seems to know that you’re fine! Have you decided to join the Patricolo family, Brother?”

Castiel growled and rounded the desk, coming face to face with his eldest brother. “It would do you good to remember who you are talking to, Michael. And as for where I was and what I was doing? I was taking care of business and that is all you need to know, brother.” He spoke with a tone of finality.

Michael stared back at him for a moment before he blew out a breath and let his shoulders slump back, taking a step away from his Pakhan. “You are right, Castiel. I forgot myself. With both you and Gabriel missing… I was worried and I suppose… perhaps slightly overwhelmed. But you are back, and for that I am glad.”

Castiel nodded once before he cleared his throat and asked, “Do you have any information on the _izmennik_ Lucifer? I’m assuming you _do_ know it was him that was in league with Bellucci?”

Michael nodded. “I know that he was responsible for taking Gabriel. Speaking of which… I have as many men as I can spare sweeping the family property. We found some disturbing evidence that lead me to believe that’s where Lucifer took Gabriel, but I have been unable to find his body.”

“Have them continue searching, I don’t want them to stop until he is found!” Castiel barked as he moved past his brother and sat down at his desk. Michael sidestepped him, giving him room to pass and Castiel refused to look up at him. He wasn't going to give away any more information than was necessary. Michael was his _brat_ , he was family, but so was Lucifer.

He waited for Michael to take a seat on the opposite side of the desk, watched from the corner of his eye as Dean stayed silent and standing off to the side-- to show respect, probably, since this was a ‘family issue’. He was grateful-- he didn’t want to explain Dean’s presence. He looked up at Michael and felt his gut twist. Could he trust him?

No, not like he trusted Gabriel for all these years, and now like he trusted his mate. Hell, his gut twisted slightly at the realization that he trusted Sam Winchester more than his eldest brother. The information Castiel would give to Michael would be need to know. There was no _need_ for Michael to know Gabriel was alive or his location. Right now Gabriel was safe, he didn’t need help from the Bratva. At least not yet anyway.

“So, other than looking for Gabriel, have you gotten a lead on Lucifer? I assume that he’s fled the city by now…”

“Naturally.” Michael gave a curt nod to his brother. “I’ve sent men to his properties down south and so far, all we found was his ex-mistress, the blonde one with the fake… everything.” Michael rolled his eyes and Castiel looked at him, confused for a moment. Lucifer had a _lot_ of mistresses. “Lilly? Something like that anyways.”

“Lilith,” Castiel groaned, “The one he used to take to every family function so she could get plastered and embarrass the family. I wasn’t aware she was still around…”

“Neither was I, brother. But she was in his house in Austin. Was apparently waiting _for_ him when we showed up and was quite surprised when it was Gadreel that walked in and not Lucifer. They waited a few days in the area to see if he would show, but I am convinced that she was a distraction. Gadreel is still with her, watching all of her communication in case Lucifer does come back to collect her.”

Castiel tapped his fingers on his desk in thought. “Do you think Bellucci could be harboring him?”

Michael nodded. “I have also considered that possibility. I have m- _your_ best Shestyorkas and Boyeviks from the security group I lead looking for him as we speak.”

Castiel opened his mouth to speak and Michael’s cell ringing cut him off. Michael held up his finger, signaling for his brother to give him a minute. Castiel gritted his teeth and his jaw flexed at the brazen motion. _He_ was Pakhan, he was not to be silenced by a fuckin’ phone call. He almost said as much but decided against it as he watched his brother’s face carefully, waiting to see what call could possibly be so important to Michael that he would answer it while they were discussing business.

“ _Krushnic, razgovory!_ ” Michael smiled. “ _Otlichno! Vstretimsya v klube, v garazhe_.” As Michael ended the call, his attention turned back to Castiel. “We found him. Lucifer.” Castiel motioned for Michael to continue. “He was using the alias ‘Nick’ and hiding out in a hole in the wall motel owned by one of Bellucci’s colleagues. They are on their way here with him now.”

Michael stood and straightened his suit. “Why don't you--” Michael paused and let his eyes trail over to where Dean was standing and assessed him before turning back to his brother, “And Don Winchester --if he is staying-- set up the Chernaya Komnata to your liking while I meet them in the parking garage and bring our traitorous brother to you.”

Castiel nodded and Michael turned and strode past Dean, not even gracing him with a look as he exited the room. Dean walked over and took Michael’s vacated seat, kicking his feet up onto the desk as he looked over at Castiel seated behind the desk.

“ _Cherr-nay-ya Komen-nyata_ room?” The Alpha struggled with the pronunciation.

Castiel smiled at him. “Yeah, it means ‘Black Room’. It's where we do interrogations.”

Dean leaned forward in his seat, his eyes shining as he asked, “You mean it's where you torture… _izz-meyn-nyik_?”

Castiel nodded, impressed his mate had been picking up some of what he had been saying in Russian. He shrugged as he spoke, “Interrogations, torture, isn't it essentially the same thing in our line of work?”

Dean huffed a laugh. “You’ve got me there. Now let's go get this _Cherr-nay-ya Komen-nyata_ set up so you can get some payback for what that fucker did to Gabriel.”

 

 

**Chernaya Komnata | Brightwater Avenue | Brighton Beach, New York**

 

Castiel, Michael, and Dean stood by the table that held the ‘tools’ Castiel had chosen. They looked down at Lucifer who was in the process of being chained to a steel chair by Castiel's bykis. When they were finished securing him they nodded to the Pakhan and left the room, closing and locking the door behind them.

Castiel stepped forward with a small, malicious smile as he approached his brother, his eye trailing over the thick rope that was biting into the flesh of Lucifer’s wrists. Michael and Dean stood off to the side watching, waiting to see what Castiel was going to do.

Lucifer tried to straighten up in the chair as Castiel approached, he huffed out a stilted laugh, though the duct tape plastered over his mouth prevented him from speaking. Castiel tilted his head to the side and pursed his lips as he pinched the edge of the tape and ripped it from his brother’s mouth.

"No fun in having that there.” Castiel gripped Lucifer's chin and forced him to look him in the eyes. “It will muffle all the screams I'm going to draw from you. It will muffle you begging me to stop.”

Lucifer barked out a laugh, wrenching his face from Castiel’s grasp. “Me, beg? Me, scream? You know me better than that, Brother. _I like the pain._ Why do you think I'm so good at the job you gave me, Castiel?”

Castiel backhanded his brother, sending his head reeling to the left. Lucifer looked straight ahead and smirked at Castiel as he darted out his tongue, cleaning the trail of blood the oozed from his split lip. “Why? Tell me why, brother? Why did you betray me? Why are you working with Bellucci?”

“Because you don't deserve to be Pakhan!” Lucifer bellowed. “It should have been _me_ !” His eyes glittered with unchecked hate. “I should lead this family! I have no idea what father saw in you, Castiel. You were a _child_ when he picked you, his favorite,” he spat his face twisted with disgust. “He must have been half senile from the cancer when he named you Pakhan. Why am I working with Bellucci? He wants you dead as much as I do!”

Castiel took a step back, his eyes never leaving Lucifer’s until he was at the table, and he turned to grab the steel bat from the end before facing his brother again. “Do not talk about father like that,” Castiel growled as he moved forward and raised the bat high in the air, bringing it down hard on Lucifer's left knee, smirking at the sickening crunch it made on contact. Castiel watched as his brother struggled not to scream and as he strained against the restraints holding him back. Castiel lifted the bat and pressed the end against Lucifer’s kneecap, leaning his weight onto the weapon.

“ _Poshel na khuy,_ Castiel! _Eto vse, chto vy poluchili?_ ” Lucifer hissed, his leg crumpling to the side.

Castiel slid the bat away from his knee and lifted it higher, pressing the tip of the bat against his brother's throat. “ _O,_ Lucifer _, moy dorogoy brat._ ” Castiel ran the bat along his brother’s shoulder as he leaned closer to him. “ _Ya tol'ko nachal. Kogda ya zakonchu s vami, chto vy sdelali,_ Gabriel,” he pressed the end of the bat steadily against Lucifer’s already damaged knee and whispered, “ _budet vyglyadet' kak detskaya igra_.”

Castiel tossed the bat back on the table and Lucifer laughed the hollow sound that echoed through the room. “Gabriel got what he deserved!” Lucifer hissed, “He refused me! The little _pizda!_ ”

Castiel’s backhand was swift and hard. Blood mixed with spittle flew from Lucifer’s split lip as his head snapped back against the chair. The man shook his head as he righted himself. He let out a mirthless, hollow laugh.

“Do not talk of our brother with such vulgarity.” Castiel backhanded him a third time, “You talk of him with respect!”

“He refused me,” Lucifer righted himself again, “ _No one_ refuses me. And for what? For you? You are weak compared to me, Castiel.” He licked the blood from his lip, “Bellucci is going to bring this family down! _You_ can't hold it together! Not like I could.”

Lucifer smirked, his head dipping down so most of his face was in shadow as he chuckled under his breath. “He screamed, Castiel. He begged for me to stop. That's when I knew I didn't want him as part of _my_ Bratva.” Lucifer paused and sneered, “He's weak, just like you, brother.”

Castiel stayed silent, surveying the tools in front of him. He reached out and grabbed a cordless hand held drill. He pressed the trigger, watching as the drill bit spun a few times before he turned and crossed back over to Lucifer. He pressed it against Lucifer’s thigh, just above his shattered knee, and looked up to meet his brother’s eyes, the one feature they had in common.

“I will _show_ you weak,” Castiel said as he pressed the trigger and the drill came to life, the drill bit spinning and burrowing into the flesh of Lucifer’s thigh. Lucifer grunted and his breathing sped up to a rapid pace as flesh, cloth, and blood pooled around the wound. Castiel watched Lucifer's eyes as the drill bit tunneled deeper, grinding to a halt when it reached his femur. Castiel removed his finger off the trigger and pulled the bit straight out of Lucifer's leg, blood dripping to the floor from the metal.

“Who else? Who else is working with you Lucifer?” Castiel demanded as he tossed the drill aside, ignoring it as it skidded across the concrete floor.

“Fuck you, Castiel!” Lucifer spat out.

Castiel moved quickly and shoved his finger through the hole in Lucifer’s jeans, into his thigh, his fingernail digging into the raw muscle of the wound. “Who?”

“I'm no goddamn snitch! So I will say it again-- fuck you!” Lucifer gritted out, his eyes flashing as he stared his brother down. Castiel withdrew his finger from the hole in Lucifer's legs and balled up his fist, pulling it back before punching his brother in the face.

Blood trickled from Lucifer's nose and he laughed manically as he whipped his head back forward, blood flying onto Castiel’s shirt. “Again, Castiel! Show me what you are made of!” Castiel drew back and hit him again and again until he felt his own knuckles split. He stepped back and took a deep breath, Lucifer still laughing as he spit a glob of blood on the floor by Castiel's feet.

“You want to see what I am made of? What I'm _really_ made of?” Castiel growled as reached behind and grabbed the pliers off the table, quickly turning back to Lucifer. “ _Otkryt' shirokiy Bol'shoy brat._ ”

For the first time since Lucifer had been tied to the chair, Castiel saw a spark of dread in his eyes. It made a smile spread across his lips.

Lucifer clamped his mouth shut and Castiel shook his head, his hand shooting forward to grip beneath Lucifer’s chin, his thumb and forefinger pressing hard enough to bruise. “Don't make me slice your lips off so I can get to your teeth. I will do it, Lucifer, and I will _enjoy_ doing it.”

Lucifer sneered and opened his mouth. “Do your worst, _trus_.”

Castiel gripped the pliers and Lucifer’s jaw tighter, pulling his brother’s head up at an uncomfortable angle. “We will see who is a coward,” he promised and then pushed the pliers into Lucifer’s mouth, the body of the tool holding his tongue down as the tip of the pliers closed around a left back molar. Castiel gave a hard jerk and the tooth didn't budge. Lucifer grunted and Castiel smiled down at him, watching as drool dribbled out of the corner of his mouth.

Castiel yanked again, wiggled it back and forth. The tooth moved and Castiel felt Lucifer try to clench his jaw around the pliers, to swallow the collection of spit in his mouth. Lucifer's eyes started to water and Castiel could tell it was against his will. There was a loud pop as the tooth came free and Lucifer moaned quietly, a gush of blood filling the hole. Castiel withdrew the pliers, opening them to let the tooth fall with a soft ‘clack’ to the floor and then repeated the process on the opposite side. He moved next to Lucifer’s front teeth, lifting his head higher to get the right angle; the left one came out with the root still attached but right one snapped, leaving half the tooth protruding from his gums.

Castiel tsked as he placed the half tooth in his hand. “Oh, I’m sorry Lucifer... I broke that one. Here, let me try again.”

Castiel forced the pliers back into his brother’s mouth and closed them around his gum and the small piece of tooth before jerking forward hard. The remainder of the tooth crumbled in between the jaw of the pliers.

Castiel took a step back towards the table and crossed his arms as he watched Lucifer starting to choke on the blood that was rapidly filling his mouth. Lucifer coughed violently, thick, dark blood splattering onto the ground before him.

“Are you ready to talk yet?” Castiel handed the pliers to Michael. He watched as Lucifer's eyes tracked his movements.

Lucifer shook his head and slurred, the grin he gave completely red. “I'm just starting to have fun.”

Castiel leaned down and gripped his brother’s knee, the one he had already shattered. Lucifer hissed and Castiel smirked at him. “So am I, brother. So am I.”

Castiel looked over his shoulder and saw a chair pushed up against the wall by Dean. He motioned to it and waited for Dean to kick it over before he sat down, knees bumping Lucifer’s.

“Michael, hand me the needle nose pliers. Dean hand me the blowtorch.” Castiel said over his shoulder. He could hear Dean and Michael getting the tools he asked for. “I'm going to rip off each of your nails _slowly_ until you talk, or pass out from the pain, whichever comes first. If it’s the later, I will wait for you to wake up and start again.”

Lucifer laughed and blood bubbled from the sides of his mouth. “Really? It would take a lot more than that for me to pass out, Castiel. Do you know me that little, brother? I'm wounded.” Lucifer flexed his hands the best his restraints would allow and looked down at his nails before he smirked at his brother. “I'm in need of a manicure anyways. I was going to make an appointment soon, looks like you are saving me the trouble. I should thank you for that, Castiel.”

Michael handed him the pliers and then he took the blowtorch from Dean and lit it, holding the tip of the pliers to the flame to heat them. Castiel worked at his leisure on each nail, humming under his breath over the hisses of pain or hard breaths coming from Lucifer. He took out his frustrations on what Lucifer had done to Gabriel as he grasped each nail with the red hot metal and slowly pried it from the nail bed before tearing it completely off the finger. He relished in every gasp or groan Lucifer made, that was as good as a scream coming from him.

By the time he had removed all ten fingernails, Lucifer was sweating, fighting hard to keep his body from shaking in pain. Castiel handed the pliers behind him and someone took it from him. He reached forward, grabbing his brother’s hand in his own, and demanded, “Tell me who the fuck is working with you!” He pressed down on the exposed nail bed of Lucifer’s middle finger.

“No!” Lucifer growled, his entire hand tensing and he tried to pull away.

Castiel stood abruptly, the chair flying back and falling onto its side. He let his eyes roam along the table and his gaze stopped on the scalpel. He picked it up and twirled it in his hand, thinking before he spun back to Lucifer and lashed out, the blade cutting into Lucifer’s skin, just above his right eye, as if it were butter. Castiel watched as blood blossomed from the cut and dripped down into his brother's eye. Then he leaned down into his brother’s face. “Tell me, Lucifer!”

Lucifer smiled and Castiel gripped him by his hair, jerking his head back to expose his throat.

Michael’s voice cut through the tension. “ _Sdelay eto_ Castiel _. On ne sobirayetsya govorit', tol'ko zakonchit' eto uzhe. My budem vyyasnit', yesli yest' kakiye-libo drugiye izmenniks._ ”

Lucifer’s eyes widened as Castiel drew back his hand. “Castiel! He--” was all Lucifer got out before the scalpel sliced his throat open and his words were garbled, simplified into bubbles of thick, dark blood gushing from his throat. Blood dripped from the corner of Lucifer’s mouth, his last breaths gasps, his body struggling against the restraints until all the fight left him. Blood had sprayed Castiel’s face, turning it crimson. He stood still, scalpel resting by his side as he watched the light fade from Lucifer’s wide, finally terrified eyes.

After Lucifer had stilled, Castiel stared at him until the blood ceased its flow. When he was sure his brother was gone he reached up and ran his hand down his face, closing his eyes. Castiel turned to see Michael and Dean watching him. He took a moment to collect his thoughts and then tossed the scalpel on the table and closed the small gap between them.

Castiel sighed and looked at Michael. “The men under his--”

“Already taken care of, Castiel. The moment I found out that he,” he nodded toward his brother, “had turned against the family, I took care of the men under his charge and replaced them with the best boyeviks from my security group. You can trust them, Castiel. They are all good men, they will serve you well,” Michael replied as his eyes roamed over the body of their dead brother. “I will inform the bykis they have a disposal. I'm going to go with them as well. I know he was a traitor, but he was my twin first. I will contact the cleaners as well.” He straightened up as he looked his younger brother in the eye, “Is there anything else you need me to take care of, Pakhan?”

Castiel nodded. “Yes, have Gadreel deal with Lucifer’s bitch, Lilith. I don't want her finding out he's gone and going to the police for revenge. She's crazy enough to pull a stunt like that.”

“I will have her taken care of immediately,” Michael replied, dipping his head as he strode out of the room.

Castiel looked over at his mate. Their eyes met and Dean waited patiently for his mate’s instructions. Castiel watched him carefully for a moment and then smiled. “Come on Dean, let's go to my office so I can clean up.”

 

 

 

**Castiel’s Office | Brightwater Avenue | Brighton Beach, New York**

 

Castiel slammed Dean against the door and buried his nose into his mate’s throat. “I smell your arousal, Dean. I could smell it back in the _Chernaya Komnata_.” Dean moaned and bared his throat for his mate. “You’re lucky Michael didn't smell it. You need to be more careful.”

Dean gripped his mate's hips and spun them, slamming Castiel against the door instead. “I couldn't help it, Cas. It's such a goddamn turn on when you’re in control. You look so _good_ covered in blood, baby.” Dean ran his tongue along Castiel's throat, tasting the sweet copper tang of the blood he still wore.

Castiel reached behind his back and locked the door before he shoved Dean, smirking as he stumbled backwards. Castiel advanced on him, guiding Dean to the couch and pushing him down as he climbed on top, straddling him. His mouth found Dean’s immediately, both of them moaning into the kiss. The kiss turned rough and dirty and Castiel could taste blood on Dean’s tongue. He didn’t know if it was his, Dean’s, or left on his skin from slashing Lucifer’s throat, but he didn’t care. All he knew was it was driving his mate wild with want.

Castiel pulled back and stood up, smirking down at the confused look on his mate's face as he unbuckled his belt and worked to get his pants and shoes off.

“I needed to get my pants off before I soak them with slick.”

Dean nodded and took the opportunity to unbutton and unzip his own pants before he pushed them down to pool around his ankles. Dean reached for his shirt, ripping it over his head and Castiel followed suit, leaving them both naked and breathing heavy in the small office space.

Castiel crawled back onto Dean’s lap, the pair of them groaning in unison as their cocks rubbed together. Dean reached up, gripping onto Castiel’s shoulders, his nails digging into the muscle and leaving crescent shaped marks before he dragged them down his back. Castiel arched into the touch, groaning as Dean palmed his ass.

“You don't think Michael will come looking for you, do you?” Dean leaned forward to suck the bloodied skin of Castiel’s throat into his mouth. He released it before it was marked permanently, and then made his way down Castiel’s neck to his mating mark.

Castiel shook his head, arching his neck to give Dean access. “Michael is gone by now, he won't interrupt. Now, no more talking about my brother when you are getting ready to fuck me. I want you, Dean, I want to ride you until you knot me,” Castiel panted as he found his mate’s lips.

Dean grabbed his cock and slid it between his slick mate's ass, positioning it. “You don't gotta tell me twice.” Dean bit his bottom lip as Castiel sunk down on his shaft, encasing him in his tight, wet heat.

Castiel loved the feel of his mate underneath him, loved the feel of Dean’s hands running all over his body. Castiel's thigh muscles quivered as he pushed himself up and dropped back down on his mate’s cock over and over, his hands finding purchase on Dean’s shoulders.

Dean ran his hands down Castiel's chest and gripped his hips thrusting upwards, driving himself deeper into his mate. Castiel gasped, his body tightening when Dean’s cock nudged his prostate. Castiel keened and dragged his nails down Dean’s arms, leaving red welts in their path as he rode his mate harder and faster.

“Fuck, you feel so good, Cas. So tight around my cock,” Dean panted as his hard thrusts turned to grinding, his knot starting to fill.

Castiel groaned as he felt his mate's knot swell, felt it pressing inside him. His body thrummed with _want_. The feel of Dean’s cock pressing against his prostate sent him over the edge and Castiel dropped his head onto his mate's shoulder and he came untouched, spurting his seed on Dean’s stomach with a loud gasp.

Dean sunk his teeth into Castiel's throat, reopening his mark, licking at the blood that sluggishly oozed from the wound. The Omega’s ass clenched and Dean spilled into Castiel with a low growl escaping his lips. Castiel's body milked his mate's knot and he watched as Dean’s mouth went slack, his eyes rolled in the back of his head, and his breath left in a rush as he pumped another load into Castiel’s body.

As Castiel relaxed against him, Dean ran his tongue over the mark and nuzzled his neck. “Sorry about that,” he said after a few minutes of silence had passed between them.

Castiel sat up and groaned when he tugged on Dean’s knot, causing his Alpha to come again, a sudden realization hitting him like a shot to the gut. Suddenly, he didn’t care that he’d have to spend more time making sure the healing mark was covered. “It's okay. But this was stupid and rash, Dean. We didn't even use the protection Crowley gave us,” his voice trailed off with a small sigh.

Dean huffed. “Well it's not like we had it on us, Cas. And you're not in heat anymore. Chances of conception go down when you're not in heat.”

“But there _is_ still a chance Dean!” He lifted himself slightly to look into his mate’s eyes. “We need to be careful, and not just with that. We are knotted in my office for fuck’s sake. What would we do if someone knocked on the door right now?”

Dean sighed, running his hands down his mate’s back slowly. “You’re right, Cas. We will be more cautious from now on, okay?”

Castiel nodded and forced himself to relax against Dean’s body again to wait for his knot to deflate. There was nothing for them to do now except wait. When Dean’s knot went down enough for them to separate, they cleaned up and Castiel changed into a completely new set of clothes. From his desk, he found an air freshener he had stored for when Balthazar smoked those god awful cigars he liked in Castiel's office. He sprayed a lot of it, hoping to drown out the scent of sex, and then sprayed a few squirts of the Alpha cologne-- just in case.

Castiel pocketed his keys and turned to Dean. “We need to get the hell out of here and fast. I can smell our mated scent.” He nodded to Dean, “I think we sweated off the cologne… it’s worn off. We need to stay a good distance away from members of the Bratva and staff so they can't scent us.”

Dean nodded as he sniffed them and motioned for the door. “Lead the way, Pakhan Krushnic.”

 

 

 

**Home of Pakhan Castiel Novak | Ocean Avenue | Brooklyn, New York**

 

Dean sighed, leaning his head back against the couch. It had been two weeks since Castiel had taken care of Lucifer, two weeks of interrogating each and every member of the Bratva to determine if any of them had been aligned with the traitor. Two weeks of _showing_ Castiel’s men exactly who was in charge.

And yet, they had gotten nowhere. There hadn’t been any more activity from Bellucci, no retaliation, but the damage had been done. Both the Bratva and the Patricolo Family had been forced to find other means of transportation for their goods. The 106th Crew had to do the same as well, since the cops were watching the docks closely. Dean’s marina back in Boston was still too risky to use, so they’d resigned themselves to tractor trailers and their own men making trips for smaller shipments.

“We’re getting nothing done here,” Sam sighed, sinking down on the couch beside his brother and letting his head fall to the side so he could meet Dean’s eyes. “I mean, we are _no_ closer to finding Gordon, or Bellucci for that matter. Lucifer’s men seem to have been eradicated by Michael when all that shit went down… so what are we doing, Dean?”

Dean sighed, letting his eyes fall closed for a moment as he thought of an answer. What _were_ they doing? Lucifer was taken care of, Castiel had reported that Gabriel was doing well in his rehab, and things for the Bratva-- save their mutual issue of Bellucci-- were going well. On their end, Gordon was still MIA and they still had to do a funeral or memorial for Bobby.

“Dean,” Sam said softly, sighing as his brother turned to look at him, “I understand that this is hard but, our family isn’t _in_ New York.”

“Part of my family is, Sam,” Dean answered.

“Dean,” Sam sat up and turned toward his brother, “part of your family is always going to be in New York. But… your _Family_ has been missing their Boss for-” He stopped, sighed, then pushed on, “for months now. Most of our Capos and Soldiers have gone back home. Castiel doesn’t need them here anymore. Until until Bellucci makes a move, I hate to say it but… there is _nothing_ for us here.”

“Gordon is probably here, Sam!” Dean fired back, crossing his arms over his chest. “He’s probably holed up somewhere just like Lucifer was, protected with false promises from Bellucci!”

“Right,” Sam nodded, “so what are we doing to find him? What are we doing to lure him out?”

Dean stayed silent. Sam knew exactly what they were doing, exactly what they _weren’t_ doing. Castiel was busy acting as Pakhan, getting his day to day business back in order and filling the spots in his Bratva that had been left by the loss of Lucifer and his men.

And Dean and Sam were just… visiting.

“Our men need us home, Dean.” Sam’s voice was soft, controlled as he watched his older brother. “Hell, Dean, if you don’t care about that, _I_ need to go home! I haven’t seen Jess in over a month, almost two! So,” he looked knowingly at his brother, “I get it Dean, I get that you don’t really want to leave Castiel. But...” Sam sighed, running a hand down his face, “Jess hasn’t even talked to me in three days. I told her that I would be coming home soon and I don’t think she liked that answer… I don’t know. Maybe,” he looked down at his hands with a frown before looking back at his brother, “maybe she’s going to go and find herself a better Alpha that can actually _be_ there for her.”

“Shut up, Sammy. Of course she’s not going to do that.” Dean rolled his eyes and leaned against Sam’s shoulder hard, nearly knocking him off of the couch. “Look, you’re right, okay? Our men need someone back home, need someone to take care of _our_ businesses. I don’t want the Irish thinking we moved out or something.” Dean chuckled but Sam rolled his eyes, unamused. “But they just need a Winchester there. For now, anyways. We do still have business in New York, but we have more in Boston. So,” he sat up and looked calmly at his brother, “I want you to go. Go be with your mate. Pick up my slack. I trust you to make any decisions in my absence.”

“Dean…” Sam started but Dean held up a hand to cut him off.

“Just for a few more weeks, okay? I’ll make a stronger effort to draw out Gordon and Bellucci. And,” he shrugged slightly, “if that proves to be fruitless, I’ll come back home and we'll come up with plan B. But right now…”

“You’re basking in your honeymoon phase of your mating,” Sam sighed and shook his head. “They aren’t going to listen to me like they listen to you, Dean.”

“Of course they will!” Dean retorted hotly. “You,” he grabbed his brother behind his neck, and locked his eyes with Sam’s, “you are Sam fucking Winchester. You’re _my_ brother, and they damn well know your word carries weight. Hell, sometimes I take your word over my own!” He waited a beat, watched as his words sank in and Sam nodded in defeat. “Nadio is sending a shipment to the garage; he’s been switching up drop off points.”

“AKs?” Sam asked and Dean smiled, clapping Sam on the back.

“You got this Sam. I’m a phone call away.”

“Yeah, well…” Sam trailed off and shook his head. “Just-- soon, okay Dean? I don’t want to keep Bobby waiting for much longer…”

“Soon, Sam,” Dean agreed and watched Sam push off of the couch and head for the stairs. As soon as his footsteps were gone, the door to the bedroom he’d been using closed, Castiel made his appearance.

“Everything okay?” he asked, sitting down next to his mate.

“Yeah,” Dean said, offering him a smile. “Just… torn, I guess.”

“Family comes first, Dean,” Castiel said softly, leaning his head against his mate’s shoulder. Dean smiled, nodding his head. “I’ll still be here no matter what.”

Dean stayed silent, soaking up the rare moment of Castiel letting his walls down and _relaxing_ with him. It was moments like this where he was torn the most about his family… and what he truly wanted.

 

 

 

**Castiel’s Office | Brightwater Avenue | Brighton Beach, New York**

 

Castiel folded his hands in his lap, looking down at his desk, deep in thought. Sam had left the night before on his way back to Boston and Castiel would be lying if he said he wasn’t glad that Dean hadn’t gone too. Being with his mate was something he hadn’t expected to bring him so much joy. They’d been happy, very happy. When they were in the safety of Castiel’s home, they could be themselves. Even if it was only for a little while, an hour here or an hour there as the Bratva kept him busy -- it was enough. The more he experienced what it would be like to have a normal life with Dean, the more he _wanted_ it, and he could tell his mate wanted it to.

But with the fragile state of the Bratva, Castiel didn't know when that would be able to happen. One thing he knew for sure was that he didn't see it in the foreseeable future. And he didn't know how to tell that to Dean. He didn’t know how to tell his mate that perhaps the best course of action _would_ be for him to go back to Boston and run his Family, like Castiel was doing here in New York. How to tell him that Sam was probably right.

A sharp knock on the door brought Castiel back to reality and he looked up as he called out, “ _Zakhodi!_ ”

Castiel immediately scowled when Crowley entered and locked the door behind him. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Crowley held up his black leather medical bag and said, “I know you're a busy man and would have a hard time making it down to the office. So, I'm here to give you your yearly checkup.”

Castiel furrowed his brows, shaking his head. “What are you _really_ doing here? You obviously know that it is of the utmost importance to keep-”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes. And Gabriel _never_ would have permitted me to come here in person. I had to have a cover story to tell your lovely bykis so they would let me back here, and a yearly physical sounded just perfect!” He paused, giving Castiel a smirk before rolling his eyes again. “It's been two weeks darling, that's why I'm _really_ here.”

“You have come here to give me my suppressants?” Castiel shut his laptop.

Crowley walked over to Castiel's desk and plopped his medical bag onto the chair across from him. He opened it up and began to dig through it. Castiel heard a mumbled ‘ah hah!’ before Crowley pulled out what he had been looking for. It was thin, rectangular shaped, in a plastic package, and Castiel instantly knew what it was: a pregnancy test.

Crowley waved it in front of him. “You pass this little test and I will give you your suppressants.”

Castiel glared at him for a moment and when the other man refused to lower his gaze, he rose to his feet, walked over to Crowley, and jerked the test from his grip. Castiel stared at it as he twisted it in his hands before he glanced at Crowley, clearly annoyed. “How the fuck do I use it?”

Crowley huffed and shook his head. “It's not rocket science, Castiel. You just pee on the stick, wait three minutes, and look at the window. A plus means you got a bun in the oven and a minus means you dodged a bullet. In the case of a negative, you’ll get your damn suppressants. If it’s positive...”

“It’s not positive. This is a waste of time!” Castiel stormed past Crowley, making sure he bumped him in the shoulder as he passed on his way to the bathroom and slammed the door behind him.

“Mature, Castiel. Real mature,” Crowley mumbled under his breath and Castiel sighed at his words through the door. He looked down at the package, rolling his eyes.

This was completely pointless! He ripped the plastic off of the stick and twisted it in his fingers before he realized there was a cap on the end. He flushed, glad that he was in the bathroom alone, and ripped it off, throwing all of the trash into the sink so he could make Crowley dispose of it far away from the club.

He almost placed it down on the sink but stopped at the last second, wondering if the few water drops there or germs would mess with the results. Not that he was pregnant, Castiel knew that for a fact. He never paid attention to Omega’s talking about mating, or pregnancies-- he never had a reason to. But he knew enough to know that they always _knew_ , could always _tell_ they were pregnant. Stupid dreams or changing scents, their mates could tell before any damn test could, and Castiel knew nothing had changed.

He rolled his eyes at himself. It was going to be negative, Crowley would give him the damn suppressants, and he and Dean could stop using the damn protection Crowley had given them. Using his free hand he undid his pants, pulling himself out to pee. He didn’t know how much the stupid stick actually needed, so he kept the end in the middle of the stream until he was finished peeing. Then he was left there holding a stick, dripping with his own piss.

“God this is disgusting,” he muttered, resisting the urge to shake the stick off.

From outside, Crowley knocked on the door. “You’ve been in there for a while, Castiel. Did you fall in? Have you _actually_ peed on it yet?”

“Yes! This is stupid, Crowley. It’s fucking negative!” Castiel called back, looking down at the stick. The little boxes had changed color, but he couldn’t make out any of the symbols Crowley had talked about.

“Pluses and minuses!” Crowley sing-songed in response. Castiel refrained from responding and stared at the stick, willing the negative symbol to show up faster. A small blue line appeared across the box and Castiel let out a small sigh. Negative. He fucking _knew_ it!

He moved to shake the stick off now that it had fully developed so he could show Crowley, and then froze, almost dropping the stick into the toilet. Across the first line, a second blue line was showing up, crossing over the first.

“No,” he whispered, fingers clenching the stick harder. “There’s no fucking way…”

“Any day, darling! It’s been five minutes…”

Castiel strode to the door and ripped it open, tossing the stick into the sink. “I need another stick.”

Crowley raised his eyebrow but nodded, heading to his bag for another test and handing it through the door to Castiel. Castiel ripped it open, yanking his pants down completely as he stood over the toilet, willing himself to pee again. He’d been nervous before, that’s why. And he knew he hadn’t emptied his bladder completely… He closed his eyes and pictured a running stream, a lake, the feel of a warm shower, and _finally_ started to pee again.

Then he waited.

When he swung the bathroom door open for a second time, he slammed the test into Crowley’s outstretched hand, the man wrinkling his nose as urine splattered against his palm. Castiel stared at him, breathing hard.

“Well…” Crowley said, looking at the bright blue plus sign. “Looks like no suppressants for you love. You are pregnant.” Crowley looked up to see the Omega pacing the room like a caged animal, running his fingers back through his hair.

Castiel stopped at his desk and turned to face Crowley. “I can't do this. I can't be pregnant. I can't have a pup, Crowley!”

Crowley stayed silent, retrieving the trash from the bathroom and placing it all in a bio-bag from his medical case. “Well…” he said slowly, taking his time to pack the trash back in his bag before he looked up at Castiel. “We could always,” the doctor paused and considered his words, “take care of your little ‘problem’.” Crowley nonchalantly pointed at Castiel's stomach.

Castiel’s arms instinctively wrapped around his middle as he chewed on his bottom lip. For a moment, he wondered if he should tell Dean, but shoved that thought away quickly. This wasn’t something they could do-- not while Castiel was Pakhan and his entire Bratva believed him to be an Alpha. He could do this on his own, he _needed_ to do this.

Castiel looked up and nodded at Crowley. “Do it. Set up an appointment. I want this taken care of as soon as possible.”

A pang of guilt ripped through him as he said the words, and he swallowed hard to shove down the sudden swell of emotion. Dean had said he wanted honesty in their relationship… but Castiel wasn’t _lying_ if he didn’t tell Dean in the first place. It was something he could take care of, something Dean never needed to know. They hadn’t even talked about pups, but Dean was well aware of Castiel’s position and opinion on the matter. It wasn’t lying, it was omitting.

Crowley grabbed his bag and nodded. “I will contact you when I get my hands on all the necessary equipment.” He tipped his head as he unlocked the door and let himself out of the office.

“Good,” Castiel said to the empty space as he sank down into his office chair. He folded his arms over his stomach and nodded, reassuring himself. “Good.”

 

 

 

** **

**Hotel Lobby | Brightwater Avenue | Brighton Beach, New York**

 

Dean waved at the receptionist as he walked into the club, hoping he caught Castiel before he left for the day. His mate had been in the office since that morning and he had his fingers crossed that maybe Cas had gotten some information for him.

As he turned for the elevator, he slammed into a short, stocky man, and immediately recognized him.

“Crowley?” He looked around them. The lobby wasn’t too busy, but there were enough people that Dean didn’t want to bring attention to them. He grabbed Crowley’s arm and pushed him back into the elevator, pressing the lock button as soon as the doors were closed. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to pay your mate a little visit.” Crowley smoothed down the front his jacket, brushing off his sleeve as if Dean had gotten it dirty. “And as I told him, I will take care of your problem as soon as possible.”

“Problem?” Dean shook his head. “We don’t have-”

“Yes, the pup you put in his belly.” Crowley rolled his eyes. “I have to get some equipment, and obviously it can’t be done here, but I assume it will be over with within the week.”

Dean stared at him and then punched the lock button, letting the elevator descend to the bottom floor. “Well,” he said, giving Crowley a tight smile. “See you soon then.”

Crowley rolled his eyes and Dean pushed past him, storming across the club floor to the hallway that led to the offices. The bykis usually gave Dean a hard time, but at the expression on his face and the pace he was making his way towards them, they immediately opened the door and let him pass.

As soon as he reached Castiel’s office, he flung the door open wide, the handle slamming into the wall.

“What the fuck, Dean?” Castiel asked as he stood up from his seat, flinging his hand out to the door. “What the hell is-”

“Are you fucking _kidding me_?” Dean hollered back, reached for the door and slammed it closed.

Castiel snapped his mouth shut and stared.

“What, got nothing to say? You seemed to have _plenty_ to say to Crowley!” Dean felt the satisfaction bleed through every part of his body as Castiel’s face paled.

“Crowley shouldn’t have told you…” Castiel replied, sinking back down into his office chair. He waved to the empty chair but Dean shook his head.

“No, I don’t want to fucking _sit_ , Castiel. And you’re fucking right. Crowley shouldn’t have told me shit. _You_ should have!” Dean felt his entire body shaking and he clenched his hands into fists, forcing himself to keep them at his sides. “How long have you _known_?”

“I didn’t keep anything from you Dean!” Castiel sighed, exasperated. “I just found out right now! Crowley came with the test to see if I could have my suppressants back and we discovered that--”

“You discovered right _now_ that you were pregnant and you have already decided to terminate?” Dean yelled and Castiel flinched, his eyes darting to the door.

“Dean, you need to stop yelling,” Castiel hissed. “The room should be sound proof but--”

“Like I fucking care about anyone other than you and me right now!”

“How about caring about my life!” Cas closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head slowly. “Dean, come on… I understand that you’re angry, but can we talk about this rationally, please?”

Dean snorted and grabbed the back of the chair, ripping it away from the desk so it was in the center of the room. He sat down, immediately crossing his arms and staring at his mate.

“Yeah, Cas, we can talk about this rationally.” His voice was tight and unyielding. “Please, I would _love_ to hear your rationality for why lying to me, to your mate, when we agreed to be honest with one another was such a good fucking idea.”

“I didn’t _lie_ to you Dean. If you had asked, I would have told you!”

Dean rolled his eyes, biting his tongue as he stared at Castiel. The Omega looked stressed, his hair sticking up even more than usual, but where it was normally endearing… it made Dean’s skin boil. “I am the Pakhan,” Castiel finally continued, “an _Alpha_ , how would we ever explain that to the Bratva? To your family? An Alpha can’t be pregnant, Dean. An unmated, not even in a relationship Alpha to be specific. We can’t have a kid!”

“What happened to telling our families, Cas? To changing things?” Dean fired back.

“I highly doubt,” Castiel snorted, “that coming out to everyone with a _pregnancy_ is the way to go, Dean. Seriously, do you really think that’s a logical way to make the changes we want?”

“I think that this entire thing is illogical, Cas!” Dean yelled back, throwing his arms to the side. “You’re pregnant. You and I made a pup!” His voice caught for a moment, “We made a pup, and you want to just tear that away from me, from us, without even _telling_ me. Do you even see how wrong that is?”

“And what,” Castiel’s eyes had a cold fire in them, “was I supposed to say, Dean? Hey,” he plastered on a false grin, “by the way, we fucked up and now we have a pup that every single one of our enemies will use against us? That is, of course, if our own fucking _Families_ don’t persecute us for lying to them!”

Dean shook his head, suddenly the anger bleeding out of him as he stared at Castiel. His mate’s eyes were pleading with him, begging him to understand. But all Dean felt was betrayed. He swallowed hard, rolling the next words on his tongue.

“You lied to me, Castiel, whether you want to think of it that way or not. We are mated, we are supposed to be a family, and to me? That means we make decisions together. You never wanted to be someone’s ‘bitch’, I always wanted a partner. And I thought that was what we had…” Dean shook his head, tears suddenly making his vision blurred as he looked up at Castiel. “But I guess I’m the ‘bitch’ in this situation. I guess that you get to just make the decisions that affect us both. I don’t get a say, I don’t get an opinion. ‘Family comes first, Dean’, remember? So…” Dean pressed his palms flat against the sides of the chair and pushed up, cutting Castiel off as he opened his mouth to speak again. “I guess I should go and be with my family, because I don’t see any of my family _here_.”

Without waiting for a response, Dean let himself out of the office, pulling the door shut with a quiet snap instead of slamming it. He paused, half expecting Castiel to come after him. He wasn’t sure what that would accomplish, but his heart twisted painfully when the door stayed shut behind him.

With a shaky hand, Dean reached into his pocket for his phone and pulled it out, dialing Sam’s number as he walked down the hallway and back out into the club.

“Sammy, I’m coming home,” he said in greeting as soon as the phone clicked on.

“Dean!” Sam’s voice sounded panicked and Dean was momentarily grateful that he could forget his own pain and focus on whatever was going on with his brother.

“Sam? What’s wrong?” He punched the button on the elevator with more force than necessary.

“Dean… fuck… Dean, she’s _gone_ , Jess is gone!”


	9. All In The Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Russian Glossary Chapter Eight**  
>  _Moy brat_ \- My brother  
>  _Pridurok_ \- Moron  
>  _Vy dolzhny dumat', chto ya grebanyy pridurok_ \- You must think I’m a fucking moron

_“I killed nobody that didn't deserve killing… It was either my life or theirs.” --Mickey Cohen_

 

 

 

**Home of Don Dean Winchester | Hutchinson Lane | Quincy, Massachusetts**

 

Sam was biting on his lower lip, the skin torn and raw, and it made Dean itch to admonish him. _Sam! Stop that. Sam, you’re going to have a disgusting scab. Dude, do you want to bite a fucking hole through your lip?_ After each comment, Sam would stop, mumble an apology, and then go right back to gnawing himself raw.

Dean supposed that it was at least a better way to cope than drinking himself into a stupor.

“Sam, come on…” Dean sighed as he reached forward and grabbed his brother’s arm, drawing Sam’s attention to him. His hazel eyes were wide, swimming with unshed tears that Dean knew would never fall, and if looks could kill-

“She has to be somewhere nearby, Dean. She _has_ to.”

“Yeah, Sam, and we’ll find her, okay?” Dean did his best to keep his voice reassuring as he ignored the doubt eating at his belly. “We have every man available sweeping the city, all of Gordon’s known spots and every place in between. But Sam-”

"Don’t, Dean,” Sam hissed, ripping his arm away. “She’s _fine_ , do you hear me? She’s fine.”

“Of course she is,” Dean said softly in response, reaching for Sam’s arm again. “Let’s…” Dean stopped and sighed.

They’d been looking for Jess for the past three days, in every place that Dean could think to look and even more places that he hadn’t. Sam was going to turn over every damn cobblestone in the city of Boston and part of Dean believed that even that wouldn’t be enough. He looked over at Sam and cringed at how his brother looked-- pale, exhausted, sick.

His fingers trailed over the screen of his phone that was on the table before him and he almost turned it on to text Castiel. It had been three days since he’d heard from his mate, too. Dean pushed away the idea of texting him or calling him and focused back on his brother. It was up to Castiel to contact him first, Dean wasn’t the one at fault here.

Sam had the note Jessica left in his hand, the edge torn and the paper wrinkled, and Dean wanted to ask what the hell Sam had been thinking. Dean himself hadn’t met his almost-sister-in-law, but from what his brother had spouted, she seemed intelligent, motivated, and completely self-sacrificing for those that she loved. Of course, that was kind of a need-to-have quality to be a part of the family.

According to Sam, he’d come home and decided to tell Jess everything about their family-- their history, their current members and problems, down to the preferred underwear choice for each member.

_“Jess needs to know everything, Dean,” Sam had looked him calmly in the eye as he explained, “if she’s going to agree to mate with me. Just because we’re true mates, doesn’t mean this life is for her and she should make an educated choice.”_

Dean got it, he really did.

What he _didn’t_ get was why Sam would spill all of their family secrets, bond with his mate, share their bonding heat, and then tell her she was ‘Family now, part of the Family business’. Dean only knew that because Jessica quoted Sam in the note she left him, claiming she was doing her part for the family, for their family, by going after Gordon herself because she saw him at Quincy Market.

Sam came home to find his Glock taken from the nightstand and Jessica gone, her phone going straight to voicemail, and with no clue on where she actually went or if she was okay. It didn’t make any sense. From all they knew Jessica Moore had never handled a gun before, probably hadn’t even seen one except on TV or in the movies. A vigilante, she wasn’t.

_“Sam... you realize that Gordon could’ve set her up, set you up, don’t you?”_

_“Don’t you think I fucking thought of that, Dean?” Sam screamed back, slamming his fist against the table. Dean’s eyebrow rose and he counted to three, making sure to keep himself calm before he answered._

_“If he did take her to set you up, we should hear something from him soon. Right?”_

_“Right. Yeah, yeah... you’re right. Soon.”_

Except they’d heard nothing. And three days had done nothing but wreak havoc on Sam’s entire body. Dean knew that their circumstances were slightly different than a ‘normal’ kidnapping, but where the chance of finding someone alive after forty-eight hours was the standard, Dean knew in their world things worked entirely differently. If Jess was alive, she probably wished that she wasn’t.

“Alright,” Dean kept his voice as calm as possible, “use that oversized head of yours and think, Sam. Do you really think Gordon has her in the city still?”

Sam was quiet for a moment and then nodded. “Yeah, I do. New York didn’t work out too well for him and with Cas offing Lucifer, and Bellucci focused on getting his revenge, I don’t think he would consider that a ‘safe place’ to be. Gordon is focused on one thing and one thing alone: himself.”

“His apartment—”

“Cleaned out.”

“The shop his sister runs—”

“Not there, and it’s being watched.”

“The subway tunnels?”

“Do you really think I didn’t check there first, especially under Quincy Market?”

Dean paused and swallowed hard before he looked up at Sam. “What... what about Bobby’s house?”

Sam paled and his eyes widened as he dropped the note to the table. “That mother fucker.” He shot up and Dean almost tripped over Sam’s chair as he stood to follow. “We should’ve looked there first. Of course that coward would want—"

"We don’t really know if that’s where he is, Sam. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

Sam shot a look over his shoulder as he strode from Dean’s house and walked quickly towards the Impala. Dean watched as his brother threw his massive form into the front seat and then glared out at Dean, telling him silently to hurry up.

Dean grabbed the keys and sighed. He couldn’t blame Sam, either. The moment the words left his lips, he knew that’s where Gordon was and had been all this time.

 

 

 

**Location Unknown  
  
**

Castiel groaned and blinked into consciousness. The first thing that hit him was _pain_ . His head felt like the subway was thundering through his brain. _Why does my head hurt so bad?_ was the first thought as he inventoried his body. It was quickly followed by, _Why can't I move?_ That little revelation came as he had tried to bring his hands up to massage his aching head. His vision was blurry and his head swam as his eyes adjusted to his surroundings.

Sweat was beading on his forehead and the front of his shirt was drenched and sticking against his skin. Castiel blinked a few times and looked around, confused as he took in the sight around him. He was tied to a chair in the middle of what seemed to be a warehouse with the entire Bratva standing in a half circle in the open area watching him. No, not him... his eyes scanned down to where half of his men were looking and landed on Michael who was deep in conversation with none other than Bellucci and his top soldiers.

Michael turned to face his brother, a cruel sneer marring his features.

“Castiel! How wonderful it is for you to finally join us. I was beginning to think you were going to sleep all day and that we were going to have to start the celebration without you.”

Castiel squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, trying to clear the fogginess from his brain. _How in the hell did I end up here?_ Castiel thought right before bits and pieces of memories flooded his mind.

_Castiel sat at his desk in his office, twirling his phone in his hands. He opened up his contacts and scrolled down to his mate's name, his finger hovering above the call button before he huffed and exited out of his contacts. It had been three days since Dean had gone back to Boston, three days of Castiel trying to get up the nerve to call him. But in the end, he had no idea what to say, how to make things right between them._

_He knew that he’d been in the wrong by not talking to Dean before making plans with Crowley to terminate his pregnancy, but finding out he was pregnant had been such a shock, he had only been thinking of himself. Not Dean and definitely not the baby they had made that was currently growing in his belly. Castiel's hands dropped down to his stomach and he rubbed small soothing circles across it. He allowed his mind to wander to think about how he would look six months from now if he was heavily swollen with a pup and instead of his own hands on his stomach, rubbing it gently, it would be his mate’s._

_Castiel was quickly brought out of his musing by a sharp knock on the door. He moved his hands off his stomach, placing them flat on his desk before he barked out a gruff, ‘Come in!’._

_Michael walked into the office, closing the door behind him, an air of superiority surround him. “Castiel I need to speak with you.”_

_Castiel sighed and nodded, motioning for him to take a seat. Much to his irritation, Michael remained standing and toddled around his office. “You have been acting… off these past few days, Brother.”_

_Castiel met his eyes with a steely gaze and ground his teeth. “Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I had to murder my own brother for being a traitor just two short weeks ago and we have yet to find Gabriel.”_

_Michael held up his hands in a placating manner as he continued to pace the office. “I am just voicing my concern for you as your brother, Castiel.” Michael walked around the desk to stand beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You know if you need me to take over things, even just for awhi-”_

_“No,” Castiel growled, “I am the Pakhan of this Bratva, you just worry about doing your job, Michael.”_

_Michael sighed and tightened his grip on Castiel's shoulder. “I was afraid you would say something like that, Brother.”_

_Castiel opened his mouth to respond just as Michael brought his other hand around and covered Castiel's mouth and nose with a saturated rag. Castiel gasped, breathing in deep, the strong scent of alcohol and acetone immediately filled his nostrils as he reached up and gripped his brother's arm. He clawed at it until his vision began to swim, his arms became heavy and dropped down to his sides._

_‘I will never get to apologize to Dean...’ was his last coherent thought before the darkness dragged him under._

Castiel opened his eyes again and hissed at the pain the light caused. Michael frowned in mock concern. “What's the matter Castiel? Does your head hurt? Chloroform does tend to cause one hell of a headache… or so I’m told.”

He took another look at his surroundings, really taking them in this time. He was indeed in a warehouse; there were crates of various sizes everywhere. When he squinted he could see the labeling on the crates revealed they were full of various liquors, from top shelf whiskey to vodka. Sweat trickled down Castiel's face and he was hit with the realization that at this rate, it was only a matter of time before his scent blocking cologne wore off.

Michael cleared his throat, regaining Castiel’s attention. Castiel looked over at him and Michael spread his arms wide. “Do you like my new warehouse, Brother?” His voice had a mocking cheeriness to it. “I purchased it from Bellucci when we agreed to work together. He even gave me a wonderful deal on all the alcohol that was already being stored in here. I figured I could use it in _my_ club.” He chuckled coldly. “I mean it will save me thousands to use this alcohol to stock the bar at _Padshiye Angely_.”

“ _Padshiye Angely_ is my club,” Castiel growled, his voice cracking and his throat felt like it was on fire.

Michael walked up to him, the sound of his Prada shoes clicking against the concrete floor and echoing off the walls of the warehouse. He stopped directly in front of Castiel and gripped his chin, fingers tight enough to leave bruises as he forced Castiel’s head back so he could look into Michael’s eyes. “Not for much longer, Brother. You really don't think you are going to leave this warehouse alive, do you?”

Castiel pulled out of Michael’s grip, the Alpha’s nails gouging against his skin. He ignored the pain and addressed the men of his Bratva. “I am your leader! Your Pakhan! Release me now and your punishment will be minimal.” Castiel’s eyes raked over each member and he could feel his heart skip a beat when he saw that no one was making a move to help him. His gaze landed on Balthazar who quickly looked down at his feet, unable to meet Castiel's eyes. He could read the look of guilt on brother’s face.

Michael tsked and shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry Pakhan.” He spat the word as if it were a curse. “Seems like everyone is ready for a change, and this change unfortunately, or fortunately depending on who's looking at the situation, doesn't involve you.”

“Why you, Michael? Why has everyone agreed to betray me and follow _you_ ?”

“Money, of course, Castiel,” Michael grinned broadly, “Money makes the world go round. And I have guaranteed the Bratva more money than you are able to bring in.”

“How?” Castiel questioned.

“Taking over territories. You have always respected boundaries as long as another family stayed out of our territory, you respect theirs. But me? I have other plans. The Krushnic Bratva is strong we have big plans, Castiel. We plan on taking over many territories including the Winchester’s territory in Boston, but first we need to settle the matter of the territories here.”

Michael turned and looked at Bellucci. “Unfortunately, I'm going to have to change the terms of our original agreement. I'm thinking that the Bratva can get all of the agreed upon territories and _your_ family will get nothing.”

Anger flashed across Bellucci’s face, but before he could open his mouth to argue, Michael whipped out his pistol and put a bullet between his eyes. Bellucci's soldiers scrambled to get ahold of their own guns but before any of their fingers got a grasp on their weapons, boyeviks were surrounding them.

Michael cleared his throat and addressed his men. “Take them out back, kill them and remove their heads. The same goes for Bellucci. After we are finished up here, we will take care of the rest of his men and do the same to them. I want their heads placed in the more popular areas of what used to be their territory as a warning of what will happen if you try to move into the Krushnic Bratva territory.”

Castiel watched along with his brother and the rest of the Bratva as the boyeviks marched the remaining 106th Crew soldiers to the back of the warehouse, one of the men dragging Bellucci’s lifeless body. When the door closed behind them, Michael spun on his heels to face Castiel again. A wicked grin spread across his face as the sound of gunfire echoed through the warehouse.

“Why, Castiel, you never did ask what it was we were celebrating. Very rude of you, if I do say so myself, seeing as how you are the guest of honor.”

Castiel huffed a small laugh. “Let me guess, you brought the Bratva here,” Castiel sneered, “to watch as you kill Bellucci, then me, before you take my place as Pakhan so no one will question your authority on being the next Pakhan.” He cocked his aching head to peer at his older brother. “Does that about sum up this _celebration_?” Michael opened his mouth to speak but Castiel cut him off. “Looks like you're overcompensating for something, Brother.”

Michael laughed, the sound cruel and hollow. “No, Castiel. I am just taking a page from your book.”

Instantly Castiel _knew_ what Michael was talking about. “I did not invite the whole Bratva there to watch Michael. It was just _you_. You were the one that needed to be taught a lesson for disobeying a direct order.”

Michael strode back over to Castiel and leaned down to where their faces were mere inches apart. “If it was my lesson to learn, then why did you take it out on them?” His voice dripped with a pained anger that only Castiel heard, the others just heard hate. “Why Hael, my beautiful wife? You gave her away at our wedding Castiel! And you killed her like it was nothing. What about my sons; Joshua, Jonah, and Josiah? They were your _nephews_! You were the first person to hold each of them.” His voice caught slightly as he leaned closer to Castiel.

“They adored you, Brother! They spent every minute you were at our house clinging to you, wanting your attention, and yet you didn't flinch when you put a bullet in each of their heads. So tell me, why _moy brat_? Why?”

Castiel could see the fire burning in his brother’s eyes along with immense pain. No one to this day, not even Gabriel, knew it had not been Castiel's plan to kill Hael and his nephews. He had wanted to rough Michael up to teach him a lesson, but their father didn't think that was good enough. And of course, like a good soldier, Castiel had followed through with what his father had ‘suggested’.

Castiel steeled his expression. “It was what had to be done to get you to fall into line.”

“And killing you is what has to be done for the good of this Bratva,” Michael hissed back.

“This has nothing to do with the good of the Bratva, Michael!” Castiel raised his chin and locked his eyes on Michael’s in a clear challenge. “This has to do with revenge.

Michael patted Castiel on the cheek before standing up straight again and motioning for one of the men to bring him a chair. “Two birds with one stone.”

Michael sat down in the chair that was placed a few feet in front of Castiel’s. The door opened and Castiel looked over to see the boyeviks covered in blood as they reentered the warehouse. They nodded in Michael’s direction, confirming the job had been done, before walking over to stand with the rest of the Bratva.

“So tell me Michael,” Castiel broke through the silence, “When did you side with Lucifer to work against me?”

Michael laughed. “When did I side with Lucifer? Lucifer sided with _me_ !” Michael shook his head and continued, “Years, Castiel, I have been planning this for years. Ever since you pulled that trigger and killed my family, I have been dreaming of watching your blood flow through my hands.” He grinned and leaned closer to his brother again. “Just so you know? Lucifer?” he shrugged with a proud glint in his eye, “Originally, he didn’t want to betray you. I had to _persuade_ him.”

Castiel took a deep breath and caught a trace of his own true scent. It was faint, but it was there. Trying not to look panicked, he pulled on the ropes that bit into his wrists to test them, to see if they gave way any. He swallowed hard and looked up, catching Michael’s gaze. “And we see how well that worked out for him! He was your twin and you betrayed him!” He looked over at his Bratva. “You are siding with a man who betrays his own twin, his family! Release me, now!”

Michael chuckled. “They won’t, Castiel! Do not debase yourself!”

Castiel looked at his older brother through narrowed eyes. “So, then, tell me why. What did Lucifer do that you would betray him so?”

Michael shook his head with disgust. “He fucked up royally with Gabriel's kidnapping. He was supposed to do more persuasion and less torture, but,” he shrugged, “I guess sending him to do the job was my own fault. We both know what Lucifer’s true talent was. How could I have expected anything else of him?” He sighed a bit dramatically, then shrugged again. “But I told him to kill Gabriel. I told him not to leave him alive. But no,” he frowned, “he was having too much fun and just had to make a run to pick up more tools and _that_ is when you found him.”

Castiel's eyes widened and Michael’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, Brother. I knew that you found Gabriel and took him to the hospital. Who do you think sent Ion and Samandriel to finish the job?” He ticked his head with a smirk. “I should have known, though, that you would have been able to take out a few low level shestyorkas. You worked quickly to have Gabriel moved and left no sort of paper trail.” His eyes glittered with hate tinged with annoyance.

“I _still_ haven't been able to find him but I want you to die knowing that I will and that his death won't be quick for choosing to side with you!” Michael sucked in a sharp hiss of satisfaction. “Lucifer’s discretion could have been forgiven, of course, if he hadn’t gotten it into his head that he would’ve been better as Pakhan.” He shrugged, sinking back into the chair in a nonchalant manner. Castiel glared back at him, knowing full well that as much as his brother looked relaxed, Michael was anything but.

“So I did what needed to be done. I set him up and while you were getting the room ready, I met him in the parking garage and told him to go along with it, to endure a little torture.” He shook his head on a deep breath. “While you were busy getting your rocks off over some spilt blood torturing him, I assured him that was when I would take you out. Having Don Winchester there threw him off some... I could tell by the look on his face. But the fool... he never broke. I do have to admit,” he frowned slightly, “I was afraid he would completely rat me out when I told you to kill him. But luckily,” he grinned, “you were quicker with that scalpel than he was with his tongue.”

Michael opened his mouth to continue, but then paused, a look of confusion crossing his face. He scented the air, his eyes scanning the room. “Do you smell that?” He turned toward the Bratva. “It's smells like an Omega. A _mated_ Omega.” Michael took a deep breath. “It’s faint, but I smell it.”

Castiel tried to calm his racing heartbeat and steel his features, tried to look confused and indifferent. He realized with the sheen of sweat that covered his skin and washing away his cologne it would only be a matter of time before Michael realized that scent was coming from him. His brother stood up and took a few steps around the chair, still scenting the air, trying to find from the origin of the scent. Then, much to Castiel’s horror, Michael paused directly in front of him.

Castiel knew the time had come when Michael leaned down and breathed in deeply at the crook of Castiel’s neck.

 

 

 

**Home of Bobby Singer | Thomas Park | Boston, Massachusetts**

 

Dean parked the Impala a few houses down and, for once, had no qualms about letting his brother go first. He wondered if he should message Cas, let him know what was going on. They both knew Gordon would be armed and that anything could happen. He might not walk out alive.

He shook that thought away like all the rest and followed after Sammy.

The house was quiet, the air stale, and that was the first hint that something was amiss. Bobby spent a fair amount of time at Dean’s house-– or _had_ \-- and Bobby was meticulous about keeping the house fresh. From the way he kept his food stuffs and his laundry, with timers on the windows for when he wasn’t there to open and shut them, and old school tricks with mothballs and fresh plants, Bobby’s house had _never_ felt stuffy or stale. Which could only mean one thing: someone had been staying here.

Sam’s entire body was coiled tight, like a spring ready to snap, and Dean knew that Sam sensed the same thing he had. Sam scented the air and shook his head.

“All I smell is--”

“I know,” Dean answered, saving his brother from saying the word. _Death_. “C’mon.”

Together they made their way through the downstairs of the house, guns loaded and ready to fire. In the kitchen the scent in the air changed to the metallic, cloying scent of blood. Dean glanced over at Sam as he gently swiped at one of the patches of blood. It was old, but there was enough of it that it was still tacky, congealed in small pools on the counter tops and sink.

“Look.” Sam pointed and Dean peered over his shoulder at the marble topped kitchen table, covered with various instruments that Dean identified from Bobby’s own personal stash. Dean swallowed the rise of anger down as best he could as he nodded his recognition to Sam.

The downstairs – other than the kitchen -- was completely clean. There was nothing out of place, nothing except the air to tell the brothers that something was off. With a nod, Dean directed Sam towards the stairs.

They made their way up slowly, the scent of distressed Omega now permeating through the strong smell of blood. Dean glanced up at Sam, noticing the way his brother’s shoulders stiffened, the way his arms flexed as he squeezed his hands around his gun. Dean exhaled slowly and then scented the air for Beta arousal, sighing in relief when he picked up nothing.

The top floor of Bobby’s house was silent, the only sounds were the soft footfalls of their boots on the runner down the center of the hall. They checked each room, clearing bedrooms, bathrooms, and even the linen closets before they reached the end of the hall and the Master Bedroom. Here, the scent of distress and pain, blood and human excrement was so strong that Dean already knew what they were going to find behind the door.

He reached out, grabbing Sam’s arm and stopping him, shaking his head once to let Sam know he would go first. Sam nodded, just a small tilt of his head, and then Dean reached for the door knob. He stood to one side with Sam pressed against the wall on the other side.

As soon as he turned the knob, a loud ‘pop’ rang out and the wooden door splintered as a bullet flew through it. Dean raised his eyebrow and pushed the door open completely, his gun drawn as he looked into the room to see Gordon sitting with a smirk in an old camping chair centered in the room.

“Darn. Missed.” Gordon sighed, his pistol hanging lazily from his hand. Dean stayed silent and surveyed the room. There was a blonde Omega laid out on Bobby’s bed and from his spot by the door Dean could see her left leg was twisted at an awkward angle, the skin showing was bruised and bloodied. She looked asleep, Dean _hoped_ she was asleep, and he stared for a moment to see the rise and fall of her chest.

“Sleeping beauty over there,” Gordon muttered and Dean’s attention snapped back to see the Beta shaking his head, “She’s a firecracker, that one, but can’t take very much at a time. Shame, really.”

Dean stopped in the doorway, gun ready, his eyes trained on Gordon’s right hand now closed around his gun. He was about to open his mouth but Sam was quicker. His brother reached Gordon in a few quick strides and gripped the front of the man’s shirt.

“You son of a bitch!” Sam yelled,yanking him up to his feet. Because of Sam’s height, Gordon was just barely touching the ground on the toes of his dress shoes. Dean was transfixed by the blood marring the usual black gloss for a second before he snapped his attention to the bed in the room.

Dean turned his head to see if maybe Jessica heard as Sam let loose on Gordon, he hoped he’s see her move. But the blonde lay motionless. It made his stomach twist for his brother.

“You sound just like your brother, Sam,” Gordon sneered, “If she was looking for a Winchester, she sure as hell picked the wrong one. I taught her a thing or two, though.”

“I swear to God if you touched her,” Sam growled, his fist clenching tighter in the front of Gordon’s shirt.

“Spoiled goods for a spoiled brat, Samuel.”

CRACK. Dean glanced up at the sound of Sam’s gun colliding with the side of Gordon’s face, the Beta’s skin splitting and blood dripping steadily from the gash. For his part, Gordon didn’t wince or flinch, he turned his head back and met Sam’s eyes straight on. The gun he was holding however dropped and fell a few feet away from the chair.

Fool. If anyone knew Sammy, they knew he was a sucker for emotions, for repentance. The hard-ass, can’t hurt me attitude was going to get Gordon nowhere with Sam. Dean shook his head and crossed the room.

“You,” Gordon sneered, “should’ve heard the way she finally screamed, Sam. Would’ve made your weak skin crawl.” He licked his own blood from his lip. “You never were one for torture, never could stomach what was expected of you.”

“You’re going to realize just how much I don’t mind torture when it comes to fucking scum like you,” Sam hissed back, slamming the butt of his gun against the side of Gordon’s face again, the man losing his balance and falling into the chair.

“Oh, bring it on,” Gordon laughed, his teeth red with blood, almost unnaturally white where they’d been wiped clean, “Let’s have a nice ol’ sit down.”

“This isn’t going to be a fucking sit down, Gordon,” Sam answered, crouching down so he was eye to eye with the man before him. He said something, too soft for Dean to hear, but the way Gordon’s eyes widened made Dean proud.

He turned his attention to the bed, knowing Sam would catch his attention if he was needed, and looked over Jessica’s battered body. Now that he was closer, he could see the various stages of healing, could tell which cuts and bruises were newer, and for once he was glad Gordon wasn’t the best at torturing information from people. It probably spared Jessica a lot of pain.

Dean blew out a slow breath and reached out, touching Jessica’s arm as softly as he could. He felt the muscles of Jessica’s body tighten, seconds before the Omega kicked out at him with all the strength she had left.

Dean grunted as her good leg caught his side and he carefully caught the limb, rubbing what he hoped was soothing circles against her skin. Jess’ blue eyes blinked open and she glared up at Dean, confusion and mistrust in her eyes.

“Hey,” Dean said softly, letting her leg drift back to the bed. “It’s okay. You’re safe. This isn’t really how I wanted to meet you…”

Recognition dawned on her face and her eyes widened. “Dean? But… Sam! Where’s Sam?” She tried to sit up, her teeth clenching as she did so and Dean would be lying if he said he wasn’t impressed. A wound on the back of the arm she’d been laying on had split open, the scent of fresh blood now on the air, but she seemed unfazed as she gripped Dean’s forearm with both hands and hauled herself up into a sitting position.

“Okay, okay,” Dean said slowly, reaching out to steady her with his free arm as she swayed on the edge of the bed. “You need to sit. Seriously. Sam’s here, too, okay? And once he’s done--” Dean grunted as Jessica struggled against his arm, trying to stand despite him holding her down, until her body gave out and she collapsed half against Dean and half against the bed. “Hey, now,” Dean soothed, “if Sam sees you on the floor… he’s going to kill us both.”

Jessica rolled her eyes and Dean tried not to smirk at the fire he saw behind them. Yeah, this definitely was the mate for his brother. “He’ll kill _you_ , you mean.”

Dean glared back at her but stayed silent, standing in his crouched position until he felt Jess was steady enough to sit up straight on her own. He nodded to her once and then stood up, slipping his flannel shirt from his shoulders.

Jess turned her attention from Dean and looked across the room to where Sam was working Gordon over. The sound of Sam’s punches or gun hitting Gordon’s face and chest was interrupted by the ripping of fabric as Dean destroyed his shirt into various bandages that would stabilize Jessica until they could get to Dean’s house and call Alastair.

Not for the first time, though perhaps one of the most important, Dean was glad that John had taken it upon himself to teach both of his boys the basic first aid they would need for their lifestyle. He quickly found the lacerations on Jessica’s body that needed pressure dressings and sent a silent thanks to Bobby for having a million useless books lying around as he fashioned a splint out of the remaining fabric and hard-covers.

“Okay… just, easy,” Dean started as he leaned down and got himself beneath Jessica’s arm, wrapping his arm around her waist as he helped her stand. He could hear the soft sound of protest that she couldn’t keep from escaping, but Jess quickly nodded and pressed against him to urge them forward.

They crossed the room slowly, both of them watching the scene before them. Sam was staring down at Gordon, his fingers white around his gun, and he was shaking his head slowly in disbelief.

“What exactly was it that you expected, Gordon? You actually thought they would just… hand over an entire city to you? You’re a _Beta_ , Gordon. The Bratva would never put a Beta in a high ranking position. At least in our fam--”

“In our family? I was treated as nothing!” Gordon spat out, blood spraying from his mouth. Dean stopped their advance so they were a few feet away and his eyes darted from Gordon’s beaten, defeated form to meet Sam’s eyes briefly. Sam shook his head then flashed Jessica a relieved smile before he turned his attention back.

“You,” Sam ran the muzzle of his Beretta down the Beta’s throat, “were given every opportunity to prove yourself, but,” he let the gun slide under Gordons chin and grinned as the Beta flinched, “you spent so much goddamn time fighting the chances you were given, the only thing you did for this family was provide a piss poor attitude to everything you touched. You were useless,” Sam paused and leaned closer, “but you were family. And you’re damn lucky that your Don gave you as many opportunities as he did.”

“Oh, yes. Damn lucky,” Gordon sneered, bloodshot eyes rolling to the side to look at Dean and Jess. “Krushnic is a better leader than Dean will _ever_ be! A family shouldn’t be run by children, that’s for damn sure, and once they take care of their own poor excuse for a leader it won’t matter that you’ve stripped me of my ties and exiled me from the city, I’ll be back and kicking your asses out before you can even forget what my face looks like.”

“You think we’re going to exile you?” Sam snorted just as Dean asked, “Wait… they’re planning to gank Castiel?”

Gordon’s eyes widened for a moment as he snapped his mouth shut and shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Maybe you’re the one who took a few too many hits to the head.”

Dean glanced over and caught Sam’s eyes again. There was a quick, silent conversation and then Sam turned back to Gordon with his gun raised.

“Thanks for the information, rat.”

Gordon’s mouth opened, just a fraction of an inch, as Sam pulled the trigger and the echo of the gunshot was heard seconds before the back wall of Bobby’s bedroom was sprayed with blood and brain matter. Gordon’s body slumped back in the camping chair and Dean stared at it for a second, waiting to see the rise and fall of a  incase-- and then shook his head.

“Always between the eyes, Sammy.”

“Don’t be mad because you can’t aim for shit,” Sam replied as he returned his gun to his holster and then closed the space between them, whispering something softly to Jess as she collapsed into his arms from Dean’s. “C’mon.”

Dean nodded, sparing both Gordon and then Bobby’s room one last glance before he followed Sam who had picked up Jess bridal-style and was carrying her out of the house. Dean watched Sam settled her in the backseat, running back inside Bobby’s once to grab a few pillows and a blanket from the couch so that he could make her as comfortable as the back of the Impala would allow. When Sam he slid into the passenger’s seat, Dean started up the ignition and pulled away from the curb.

“We need to warn Cas,” Sam broke the silence and Dean nodded, his gut twisting painfully with guilt that he hadn’t reached out to his mate at all. He was still pissed, but somehow the threat looming above them of Cas’ own family taking him out made that seem so stupid…

“Yeah, I’m calling him as soon as we get to the house. You call Alastair.”

Sam nodded, glancing over the back seat to check on Jess who had passed out again. Then he cleared his throat. “Gordon made a few comments while you were getting Jess up. I didn’t really understand them. A lot of rambling and shit in between calling me a coward and all that but…” Sam paused and sighed softly. “I don’t think he meant Lucifer. The way he was talking…”

Dean glanced over at Sam and then back at the road. He blew out a breath and turned up the side street towards his house. “Well, then, who? We barely know the Bratva, Sam… it has to be someone working with Lucifer, right?”

Sam half nodded and half shrugged. “Well, it would be a long shot to assume that there were two different betrayals going on behind Cas’ back,” his voice trailed off in thought. “To be honest, I don’t think Bellucci would just talk to anyone, either. You know how we were when Bobby suggested talking to the Bratva, and we aren’t sharing close quarters with them. From the people we met, I mean, I think the only one who would be composed enough to even get through to Bellucci would be Michael.”

Dean swallowed hard, nodded slowly. “But… Michael was there when Cas killed Lucifer. He _handed_ him over to Cas! Why would he give up his partner, his brother no less?”

“Dean… if it is Michael, he’s going against his brother anyway, isn’t he? Obviously family is something different for the Krushnics…”

Dean stayed silent, trying to remember everything Bobby had said to them in their quick ‘Bratva history lesson’ and from small bits of information he’d gleaned from Cas himself during their mating week. It seemed, on the outside, that the Bratva took care of their own, that family _meant_ something to them; it sure meant something to Castiel. But…

“Fuck, Sam.” Dean slammed his fist against the steering wheel, causing his brother to jump in the seat beside him. “What would you do if I killed Jess, killed your kids? Because you chose to challenge my authority?”

“You… the fuck, Dean? You,” Sam stared at him, shocked and angry, “you wouldn’t do that, no matter _what_ I did to you.”

“Humor me. What would you do?”

“I…” Sam stopped, shaking his head as he let himself picture the scenario. “I would… I would probably... I don’t know. I would be…” Sam looked over his shoulder, his eyes trailing over Jess before he looked forward again. “I would kill you,” he whispered.

“I know,” Dean replied, “It’s Michael. It has to be. Do you remember what Bobby told us? About how Castiel’s Bratva was actually formed after everyone basically threw a fit when the youngest Krushnic brother was named successor?”

Dean pulled up to the front of the house, immediately throwing the car into park and shutting off the ignition. Sam waited a beat, then shook his head and let himself out of the car. He rounded to the back and carefully moved Jessica’s legs out of the car, lifting her up once they were on the pavement, then caught Dean’s gaze from over the top of the car.

“Call him, Dean. Call him, now!”

Dean nodded, turning away from his brother’s retreating form as he pulled out his phone and opened his contacts. He hit Castiel’s number and waited, cursing when his mate’s cell phone went to voicemail. Another pang of guilt, tinged with fear, twisted through his gut and he quickly scrolled through to find the number for Cas’ office number.

No answer.

Dean called the club-- no answer. He called Castiel’s house-- no answer. He went as far as calling Crowley and then Gabriel --who was not easy to reassure that he was just wondering and there wasn’t anything to worry about-- both of whom hadn’t heard from Castiel for as long as Dean hadn’t.

Dean swallowed hard as he shoved his phone back into his pocket and made his way up to the front steps. As a Winchester he had been taught to always trust his gut, and right now it was screaming at him that something was horribly wrong.

 

 

 

**Location Unknown**

 

Castiel held his breath as he watched Michael stumble back like he’d been slapped, wearing an expression of pure shock on his face.

“You? How?” Michael shook his head quickly and Castiel stopped trying to follow the movement as he continued to hold his breath. “No! No! It can't fuckin’ be! It’s not possible. Water!” Michael ordered looking around the room and waiting until one of the men stepped forward holding two bottles of Poland Springs. Michael jerked them from the shestyorka’s grasp and immediately unscrewed the caps. He stalked back to Castiel and dumped both of them over his head, whipping the empty plastic against the far wall.

Castiel gasped and sputtered as the cold water drenched him, knowing that it was going to wash away the last remnants of the cologne. He knew that when Michael went to smell him again, he would know his secret, that the entire Bratva would know what he had fought so many years to hide. His stomach twisted as he realized they would also know he was mated to a Winchester.

Michael’s hand darted forward, his fingers twisting painfully in Castiel’s hair but he refused to gasp, he refused to show his older brother any fear as his neck was wrenched back. Michael leaned back in and took a deep breath, cursing as he shoved Castiel’s head backwards and stepped back with wide eyes.

“It _is_ you! My own brother, our fuckin’ Pakhan, is a God damned Omega! A knot slut!”

The sound of buzzing in Castiel’s ears blocked the whispers from the rest of his ‘Family’ as Michael gripped his shirt at the collar, ripping it open, revealing his mark. “A _mated_ knot slut. Who’s whore are you, Brother?” Michael leaned back down and Castiel tried to pull away, only causing Michael to dig his fingers into his shoulder.

“Sit still, slut!” Michael scented him once more, his grip leaving Castiel no room to move. “Pine?” He drew back, the disgust clear in his voice. “You mated a _Winchester_? A fuckin’ Italian! You really are a slut, willing to give it up to anyone.”

Michael released Castiel’s shoulder and tapped his chin, humming in contemplation. Castiel let out a slow breath, trying to calm himself. He forced himself to keep his eyes trained on Michael, to not look at the reaction from the rest of the Bratva behind him. He’d had a million nightmares before of having his secret revealed, a million ways in which the Bratva would find out the truth. But this? This had, honestly, never crossed his mind. He flexed against the ropes strapping him to the chair and waited, glowering coldly at his brother.

“Which Winchester,” Michael sneered, “did you let make you his bitch?” He kept his eyes locked on Castiel’s, then he snapped his fingers and his face lit up with cruel mirth. “Don Dean Winchester? I’m right, aren't I, Brother? After all, even if you are an Omega whore,” his voice dripped with disdain, “you _are_ a Krushnic, and we only accept the best. You two,” he harrumphed, “seemed awfully cozy last week and you did let him stay at your house. Come to think of it... his brother stayed there also. Were you fucking them both, Castiel?” He looked at his brother, not bothering to hide the veiled meaning. “Were you taking both of their knots like a good knot whore? Did you have one tie you at each end, using you like the cock-sucking slut bag that you are?”

Castiel glared and Michael only smirked and shook his head. “No,” he snickered, “you wouldn't do that, would you, Brother? You wouldn't do that to your true mate.”

Michael waved at the air in front of his face as if he smelled something foul and turned half his body, as if he were addressing the rest of the Bratva too. But Castiel knew who this was for, knew that Michael couldn’t care less who was in the room now that he had Castiel exactly where he wanted him. “ _Cinnamon_ . I smell the cinnamon laced in with your sickening orange blossom scent and that of the Don’s pine.” Michael snapped forward, gripping Castiel’s throat as he bent down to meet his eyes. His voice was hushed, and Castiel wasn’t sure if anyone could hear his brother’s next words over his rapid heartbeat. “You know what else I smell? Faint, very faint, but it is still there. _Vanilla_ , Castiel. I smell van-il-la,” he dragged the word out, “The same sweet smell my Hael carried when she was pregnant.”

Michael moved his hand off of Castiel’s throat and placed it on his stomach, the sudden pressure causing a small gasp to escape from Castiel’s lips.

“Don’t fuckin’ touch me,” Castiel growled, trying to wrench away from him. Michael lifted his hand off of Castiel’s stomach and backhanded him across the face, the crack echoing in the now silent warehouse. Castiel snapped his face back forward and spit the glob of blood that filled his mouth out on Michael’s gleaming shoes.

Michael drew back and struck him again. “These are my favorite shoes, bitch!”

Castiel shrugged before he smirked at Michael, letting his tongue trace over his top teeth, his entire mouth tasting of copper. “Call me all the names you want, Brother,” the words came out of his mouth in a hiss and he saw his brother’s eyes flashing dangerously. “It still doesn't change the fact that our father thought that I, an _Omega_ , and his youngest, would run this Family better than  <i>you</i>, his oldest Alpha son!” Castiel spit at him again and grinned. “You have been taking orders from me for years. So, really, Michael-- doesn't that make _you_ the bitch?”

Michael sneered and slapped Castiel once more before he leaned down and gripped both of Castiel’s forearms, the chair beneath him biting into his skin painfully. Michael’s breath was hot against his face as he hissed, “I am going to take everything from you, Castiel. I’m taking control of the Bratva. I’m going to kill your beloved true mate. I’m going to cut your unborn pup from your stomach and then I’m going to take your life, dear Brother.”

Castiel glared back at him until Michael stood and walked away. Castiel knew there was probably already a table set up with every one of his brother’s favorite instruments. He swallowed hard and forced his gaze away from Michael’s back to look around the warehouse at his Bratva, at his _Family_. Each and every expression he saw was one of pure disgust, save Balthazar who looked back at him with pity in his eyes. It made Castiel’s gut clench. He raised his chin defiantly. How could he and Dean have ever thought they could change the minds of these men? That they could have truly been together and had any kind of normal life?

Castiel took a deep breath. He knew he was never going to make it out of this warehouse alive. There were too many men, and Michael’s drive for revenge would only guarantee he wouldn’t leave this place until Castiel’s body was cold. Hell, even if he did get the chance, he didn’t know this warehouse, didn’t know the layout, and would be a sitting duck in any of the rooms.

He could only hope now that Michael would not be able to get the drop on Dean, that his Alpha would make it through this alive. Castiel wished he could say his goodbyes to Dean, wished he could tell him that they may not have had much time together but he cherished every moment. He was glad it was Dean who was his true mate, and honestly? Castiel wouldn’t change anything.

Castiel wasn’t afraid to die, it was part of the business, there was always that risk. He was afraid of dying without Dean knowing how much he truly meant to him. From the table Michael was standing, the telltale sound of a saw blade being started up made Castiel straighten his shoulders and set his face as straight as he could. He stared ahead, refusing to meet any of the eyes pointed at him, forced himself to look indifferent.

He would not give Michael the satisfaction of seeing him afraid. He would send up a million silent prayers as Michael did his best to break him, would say a million times everything he wanted Dean to know. And when he breathed out his last breath, Michael would only have broken his body and hopefully, somehow, Dean would know everything.

 

 

 

**Home of Don Dean Winchester | Hutchinson Lane | Quincy, Massachusetts**

 

“Fuck!” Dean slammed his phone down on the table, the action so common over the past six hours that no one around the table even jumped. Sam sighed from his spot behind the island as he was fixing up a bowl of soup to take to Jess.

“Dean…” he said softly and Dean turned to glare at him.

“Don’t, Sam,” Dean cut him off, “I had to listen to you for three days when we were looking for Jess, so don’t you dare give me shit over--”

“Boys, boys,” Alastair crooned, cutting off the impending argument as he slid in front of Sam at the sink to wash his hands. Dean glared at him, then looked down at the blood tinged water as it dripped from his hands. “Enough with the drama. We really are getting a little too old for this, aren’t we?”

“How’s Jess?” Sam countered, getting a spoon from the drawer and dipping it into the hot bowl of soup. Alastair finished washing his hands, letting them drip for a moment in the sink before he answered.

“Well, she’s much livelier than my usual patients,” he shook out his hands, “I suppose that’s what you’re really asking?”

“Alastair, cut the crap,” Dean muttered, letting his head fall into his hands. He opened his eyes and stared down at the black phone sitting between his elbows. All he wanted was for the damn screen to light up and for it to be someone other than Gabriel.

“We have sixteen stitches to a laceration running from her left shoulder blade to mid back. Some steri-strips were all that were needed on some of the other larger lacerations. I’ve set her leg. I’m sure,” he looked nonchalantly at both men, “you heard the pleasantries she shouted at me, and as long as she listens to Doctor’s Orders, an immobilizer is all she’s going to need instead of a cast.” Alastair ticked off each thing by sticking up a finger, pausing at length between each and it made Dean want to strangle him.

“What about infection? Does it look like everything’s clean?” Sam asked, scowling at Dean as if he knew what he’d been thinking.

Alastair raised up a black cooler, the Boston Medical Center’s logo displayed across the front. “Once the lab lets me know, I’ll let you know, Sammy.”

Sam glowered. “Don’t call me that.”

Alastair smiled in response and wiped his hands dry the rest of the way on his pants. Dean watched as Sam shook his head and then exited the room. Alastair waited a pause before he slid into the chair across from Dean.

“So… where’s tall, dark and handsome?” His voice was like velvet, almost a purr, and Dean heard a growl escape his throat as he stood up, his chair falling back and slamming against the tiled floor.

“I think you’re fucking done here,” he hissed and Alastair’s smile widened.

“I didn’t know we had the same taste, Don Winchester.” Alastair clicked his tongue and looked Dean up and down before adding, “I always knew you had it in you.” They stared at each other and Dean was relieved when the mortician bent down for his bag of supplies and the cooler. “In all honesty, he was a little too ‘pretty’ for my taste.”

“Good night,” Dean replied through his teeth and let Alastair take himself to the front door. When he turned back around Sam was standing in the doorway, rolling his eyes.

“Pissing contest with Alastair? Really, Dean?”

“Unless you have a way to help me find out where the fuck Cas is? Don’t talk to me, Sam.” Dean threw himself back down at the table, this time in Alastair’s seat, and Sam sighed as he moved around the back and righted the fallen chair. He slid into the seat and pointed across the table where his laptop had been set up from when they’d been looking for Jess.

“I know a guy,” he lifted the top of the computer, “we were friends when I took those few college courses…” Sam powered it up and started clicking away. Dean rolled his eyes, remembering how much of a shit show those few months had been. He’d never seen John mad at anyone in their family the way he had been when Sam suggested not ‘working’ for the family business.

Dean stared down at his phone again, listening as Sam clicked away on the keys. Sam tapped his left hand on the table as he waited, and finally he spoke. “Ah, hello Dr. Badass.”

“What?” Dean asked, looking up at Sam. “Doctor Badass? That’s what your friend is called?”

Sam shrugged and started typing again. “Yeah, he thinks it’s a cool name.”

Dean stared for a second then sighed. “Your friend is a waste of time. He’s never going to find us shit, especially if his name is fucking Dr. Badass. You know who calls themselves badass, Sammy? Losers who want to make themselves cooler. People who actually are badass would never--”

“He got me into the club’s database,” Sam interrupted and Dean stopped short.

“What?”

“I’m in, Dean! I’m in their servers. Okay, hold on…” Sam started clicking away again and Dean reached between his legs for the bottom of his chair, the legs scraping as he dragged it over to sit next to his brother so he could see what was happening on the screen. There was a large screen displayed, slightly blurry, but Dean could see that Sam was clicking around a desktop that looked like the ones in Castiel’s office. In the top corner was a text box with ‘Dr. Badass’ typed across the top of it.

Sam had been trying to crack into Cas’ emails from the tablet Dean brought back in his suitcase. It belonged to Castiel, but he hadn’t had any luck other than locking himself out for too many wrong passwords.

Together, Sam and ‘Dr. Badass’ made their way through the firewalls and into the employee email server. Sam pulled up a list and went to click on Michael. Dean reached out and stopped him, shaking his head.

“Start with Lucifer. We _know_ Lucifer was working with Bellucci. Maybe his emails will show us everyone he was working with, in case there’s more than just Michael.”

Sam nodded and rolled the mouse and within a few clicks, they were looking through Lucifer’s Outlook. Most of the emails were from Castiel or cc’d from Castiel-- subjects ranging from meeting with the Winchesters, to recruits to the family and business details. Dean’s heart stopped when he caught Singer, Robert and he pointed at the same time Sam clicked.

They scanned the email, seeing that it was a list of their shipment information, the men that would be working each shipment, and when shipments could be expected. Dean was about to open his mouth but Sam shook his head.

“Look.” He pointed and together they scanned the top of the email and saw that Bobby had been sending shipping information to Michael, who had been forwarding the information to Lucifer. “But… why,” Sam questioned, “would Lucifer care about our shipping information?” Dean shrugged and Sam clicked back out to scroll through a few more emails before finding one from De Canara, Peter.

“That’s one of Bellucci’s Capos,” Dean supplied and Sam nodded as he opened the message.

 

 ** _To:_** _Peter De Canara:_[](mailto:decanarap106@netzero.net) _decanarap106@netzero.net  
_**_From:_** _Lucifer Krushnic:_ _lkrushnic@padyshireangley.com  
_**_CC:_** _Michael Krushnic:_ _mkrushnic@padshiyeangley.com_ _  
_**_Subject:_** _Shipments_  

**_May 28, 2016, 15:46PM_ **

_Peter--_

_I have attached the shipping manifest from the Winchester’s Consigliere as well as the information given to me by ‘Pakhan’ Krushnic. I require fifteen additional soldiers to train for this next shipment._

_Please ensure they know how to aim this time. Your last group left much to be desired._

_Lucifer_

 

“Well,” Sam said as he clicked back again, “that explains how Bellucci knew about our shipments even after we moved them to the pier in New York.” Dean nodded and watched as Sam clicked through a few more of Lucifer’s emails, finding no new information.

“Michael then,” Dean said as Sam went back to the list of employees. “I didn’t think Lucifer was the brains of the operation…”

Sam nodded and logged into Michael’s emails, a much longer and more diverse list loaded. It appeared that Michael had emailed most everyone in the Bratva. Dean racked his brain quickly to see if it was normal or not for an Avtoritet to be so involved with the rest.

“This!” Sam’s voice was loud and drew Dean’s attention back to the screen as Sam opened up an email. “It was sent about a week ago.”

 

 ** _To:_** _Leonardo S. Bellucci:_ _belluccils106@netzero.net  
_**_From:_** _Michael Krushnic:_ _mkrushnic@padshiyeangley.com  
_**_Subject:_** _Change in circumstances_

**_August 8, 2016, 08:16AM_ **

_Bellucci,_

_It is unfortunate that my brother, Lucifer, has met an early demise. Castiel was getting too close to you, Lucifer had too big of a mouth, so really I was doing you a favor. Of course, this changes our original plans of dividing up territories and I assume that taking over the areas Lucifer was going to be responsible for would not be in anyone’s interest other than mine._

_I propose another territory meeting. One that does not involve that Beta from the Patricolo Family. I am not sure what Lucifer was thinking with that one, but seeing as he’s all but lost his head… I believe a new plan is in order for both you and I anyways._

_I propose this meeting not be as public as the first. It should be you and me, of course, and a few of our most trusted. What we are planning to do here is not meant for all ears, and although I am fully capable of running my Bratva--as I am sure you are with your family-- it is best kept on a need to know basis until things start to move forward._

_I believe the warehouse in your district will provide sufficient privacy and space for what we need to communicate? If all goes well, I will be bringing a guest of honor and I believe those soundproof walls are just what the doctor ordered._

_Be well._

_Michael_

 

“Guest of honor,” Dean pointed at the screen, “Sam, they mean Cas!” He immediately reached for his phone again as it started buzzing across the table. ‘GABRIEL’ showing up in bright, white letters.

Sam looked over his shoulder and sighed softly. “Are you going to tell him what’s going on?”

Dean shot him a look and then hit the answer button, holding the phone to his ear.

“Where the fuck is my brother, Winchester,” Gabriel screamed out the moment the call was answered. “And who the fuck do you think you are, dodging my calls like a girl I broke up with back in fucking high school?”

“Gabe--”

“No, I don’t want your excuses! I don’t want ‘oh it’s fine, Cas is great, just busy with Bellucci’ bullshit!” Gabriel’s voice was rising with each passing word, “I may be fuckin’ crippled, Dean-o, but I will get to Boston mighty quick and kick your ass! _Vy dolzhny dumat', chto ya grebanyy pridurok…_ ”

“Okay, Gabe just listen, alright?”

“No!” Gabe cut him off and was off again, ranting into the phone, “You had your chance to talk to me when I called you fifteen times in the past twenty-four hours! You ignored every single call except one! You think I want to hear your fucking sultry voice or some shit? I am not my brother! I find nothing attractive about your _arrogance_ -”

“Hey!”

“And you would think, being a fucking _leader_ , that if someone was trying that badly to get in touch with you and it wasn’t because they’d had a taste of your fucking knot and were all fucked in the head, that they would have some goddamn valid information for you!”

Dean ran a hand back through his hair, scratching at the base of his scalp as he gave a soft sigh. “You’re right, Gabe.”

“Damn straight I am right,” Gabriel snorted on the other end and in any other circumstance, Dean would’ve cracked a smile.

“I would be happy to hear your information,” Dean soothed quickly. “But right now is really not the time, okay? I promise that I will call you back as soon as I get this thing taken care of--”

“Would this thing have anything to do with the fact that Michael has Castiel and is meeting with Bellucci to torture him and take his ‘rightful’ place as Pakhan of the Bratva?”

“How… What?” Dean sputtered, getting Sam’s attention and switching ears as he pulled his brother in closer. “How do you know this?”

“I got an email. Michael sent it Bratva wide, though it was cryptic. I don’t know very much but I do know that it was scheduled for today. Which is _why_ , you _pridurok_ , I have been trying to get in touch with you since yesterday! Fucking moron!”

“We didn’t see any Bratva wide email when we cracked into Lucifer’s…” Sam said, clicking back into Michael’s email account and heading for the ‘sent’ section.

“Right, because Michael would waste his time emailing a corpse,” Gabriel replied and Dean gave half a shrug as Sam pulled up the message. Dean let Sam scan the message, his stomach suddenly protesting and a wave of nausea hitting him. If Michael had gotten Castiel today… would he even still be alive? The room was suddenly spinning and Dean had to force himself to focus on what Sam was saying to him.

“It says they’re meeting in their newly acquired property.” His eyes scanned the message. “Where is that? Dean?” Sam looked over and gave Dean a reassuring smile before taking the phone from him and pressing it against his own ear, interrupting another of Gabriel’s Russian rants. “Hey, it’s Sam. Yeah, he’s… fine. Just, let’s do this okay? Do you know where Michael is talking about? A new ‘property’? Would that be the lake house your family has?” Sam paused, listening to something Gabriel was saying on the other end. “No, you’re right… I’ll have to look through his records then. Well, do you have a better idea? It’s not like _you_ can call them up and ask where the meeting is going to be…” Sam gave a small laugh at whatever Gabriel’s response was and then nodded to the computer screen before he started typing. “No, I got a guy. I’ll keep you updated, or make sure that Dean does, okay?”

Dean was aware of his phone being shoved back into his hands, but time seemed to stop. Beside him, Sam was clicking away furiously, more windows were popping up and there was coding flooding the text box with ‘Dr. Badass’. It just made Dean want to puke.

Numbers and emails, what were they going to accomplish? Right now Castiel was probably being tortured, was probably bleeding and sweating in a cold, dirty warehouse somewhere thinking that Dean hated him. What kind of Alpha just walks out on his mate and ignores him for three days? What kind of Alpha gets mad at their mate for _not_ having a conversation with him, and then decides to _not_ have a conversation with them? Dean’s blood suddenly turned cold.

He fumbled for his phone and found Crowley’s number, hitting send before he could even fully think of what he was doing.

“Good evening, Darling,” Crowley answered and Dean felt his hand tighten on the phone.

“Did you do it?” He ignored the questioning look Sam sent him. “Did you do it? Or is he still with our child?”

“Ah, so I see that the happy couple wasn’t completely on board with the young Omega’s plan,” Crowley crooned. Dean closed his eyes tightly, squeezed the phone harder. “You could just ask him, Don Winchester.”

“Crowley… please.” It took every ounce of Dean’s will to sound calm and in control. “Just answer the question, okay? It’s really important.”

Crowley clicked his tongue and Dean held his breath. “I believe that this is a conversation you should be having with your mate, Don Winchester. As it stands, this is a matter of patient-doctor confidentiality and unfortunately, you are not my patient. Have a good evening, Mr. Winchester.”

The silence of Crowley disconnecting deafened Dean for a few seconds.

“Fucker!” He looked up to see Sam staring at him, confusion on his face. “Just… we need to find him, okay?” Dean answered and Sam nodded, pointing at his computer screen.

“I did. Well, Ash did, um Doctor Badass.”

Dean leaned forward, looking at the title transfer Sam had pulled up for a warehouse just outside of Brighton Beach. Dean nodded, reaching over to squeeze Sam’s shoulder.

“I’ll let you know what happens.”

“Dean, I’m not letting you go alone,” Sam immediately argued, slamming the laptop closed. “We both know it’s basically going to be a suicide mission with the entire Bratva there. And I would be shocked,” he stood from the stool, packing up the computer, “if Castiel still had his identity hidden from them which means they will <i>know</i> who you really are.”

“So what, Sam? He’s my _mate_ ,” Dean said hurriedly as he pulled on his jacket. “He may be--” He censored himself and then let out a rushed sigh. “He may be carrying my _child_. I’d go to fucking hell and back for him. But,” he held his brother back, “I am not asking you to walk into that… Not when we just got Jessica safely home.”

Dean watched the emotions play out on his brother’s face and then Sam shook his head slowly. “You’re right, I just got Jessica back. And she’s here, in your home, _safe_ . You helped me achieve that, Dean. And,” he shrugged on his jacket, “I’m going to do the same for you. We _both_ deserve our families. So quit fucking arguing with me and go get your guns ready. We’re going to need them…”

Without waiting for a response, Sam pushed away from the table and walked behind Dean’s chair to the living room. Dean sat in his place, listening to the soft sounds of Sammy relaying their new information to Jess, though he couldn’t make out anything specific. After a few moments, Dean picked up his phone and tried Castiel one more time, his voicemail clicking on without any ring.

“I’m coming for you, Cas,” he whispered into the voicemail. “Just hang on for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhh! So sorry everyone! Thank you for being so patient. You guys are awesome!!! ♥
> 
> Also, Cas and I are starting a new ABO fic! Look for it to start being posted later this week :D It's in a completely different style than either of us have written before, but we hope you all enjoy it!


	10. All Hell Breaks Loose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Russian Glossary Chapter Nine**  
>  _Chertova mat' grebanyy sukin syn etoy ukusy_ \- Goddamn mother fuckin son of a bitch that stings  
>  _Durachit’_ \- Fool  
>  _Moya sem'ya_ \- My family  
>  _Trus_ \- Coward  
>  _Vy udivitel'ny_ \- You’re amazing  
>  _Vy udivitel'ny, ty Ty vse, chto ya nikogda ne znal, chto ya khotel_ \- You are amazing, you are everything I never knew I wanted

_**"Never let anyone know what you are thinking.” --Tony Montana** _

 

 

 

 

**Alcohol Packaging Warehouse | Morgan Avenue | Brooklyn, New York**

“Take a left up here,” Sam instructed.

Dean drummed his fingers nervously on the steering wheel as he entered the warehouse district. They had checked Castiel's house first, just in case, and with no sign of him there, they went to the club. Dean had immediately noticed the lack of Bratva and bodyguards and they both knew that the information Gabriel provided was correct.

Dean took a left and as soon as they pulled into the lot filled with warehouses, he felt the warm press of his brother’s hand on his shoulder. “I think you should park here.” Dean nodded and pulled the car up beside a smaller warehouse, hiding it from the large brick colored one in the center. Dean turned off the car and took a deep breath. “He may not be here, Dean,” Sam’s eyes were skimming the area, “So don't go thinking the worst.”

Dean shook his head, clenching his keys in his fist as he reached for the door handle. “We both know that he’s here, Sammy.”

Sam nodded, thankfully not offering any more empty optimism, and they both got out of the car. Dean locked the doors, checked his guns, and Sam followed suit.

“Okay, it's the large warehouse in the center. Their cover is bottling alcohol, so I’m hoping there will be some machines running to mask our entrance for as long as possible.”

Dean nodded and pulled his gun from the holster, clicking off the safety. He watched as Sam did the same. “Eyes open and be careful.”

Dean took point and Sam followed closely behind. They bobbed and weaved between the warehouses, knowing it would be foolish to walk right up to the front doors from the parking lot, until they were one away from their target. Sam elbowed Dean in the side and nodded to the front door of the warehouse where one of the bykis Dean recognized from the club stood guard.

Sam bent down and picked up a large rock, then took a few steps back before he launched it at the side of the warehouse. The brother’s pressed their backs flat against the hot metal wall and waited until they heard the crunching of gravel, signaling approaching footsteps. Dean slid his hand in his jacket and pulled out a long knife that had been a gift from Bobby.

When the man rounded the corner, Sam knocked the gun from his hands and Dean stepped behind him, wrapping one arm around his chest as his other brought the knife up, effectively slitting his throat in one fluid movement. Dean let go of the man and Sam caught him as he fell forward, carefully laying him down against the wall of the warehouse out of view.

They continued to make their way to the center warehouse where Dean was sure Cas was being held. Sam pointed to a ladder near the corner that lead up to a huge window. “We may be able to see what’s going on inside… or at least get a bit of the layout. Watch my back. I'm going to take a look.”

Dean stood guard at the bottom of the ladder, keeping watch at the front doors in case they were coming up on a shift change, as Sam climbed. As soon as his brother’s feet were back on the ground Dean asked, “Well, what did you see? Is Cas in there?”

Sam swallowed and nodded. “Yeah, he's in there.”

Dean's heartbeat sped up. “Is he... Sammy, uh, is he still alive?”

“He's alive, they have him tied to a chair.”

Dean let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding and nodded his head. “How many men are in there?”

Sam sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “I'd say it's definitely the whole damn Bratva, Dean.”

Dean ran his fingers back through his hair, racking his brain for a way for the three of them to get out of this alive. Or… at least two of them. “I don't give a fuck how many men are in there. I'm going in and I'm getting my mate and you are going to get your ass back to Jessica.”

Sam clapped Dean on the shoulder. “I got your back Dean, and I've got a plan.”

 

 

Dean nodded once to Sam and together they slammed opened the doors to the section of the warehouse where Castiel was being held. In the center of the room, Michael spun around, a metal blade in his left hand, and his eyes widened as he took in Dean and Sam barging into the room.

“Get them!” he growled, dropping the knife to the ground and reaching around his back for his gun. “Bring them to me alive!”

Gunfire rang out throughout the warehouse as the entire Bratva pulled their weapons and started firing at the front of the room. Dean shoved Sam to the side and the two of them dodged the bullets and hid behind the various crates, glass and alcohol exploding from the shelves above them.

“Alive!” Michael screamed. “And stop shooting my liquor!”

As the gunfire died down, the brothers made their way deeper into the center of the warehouse and closer to where Castiel was tied. A large, wooden crate sat at the end of a row of shelves and Dean pressed himself against it, looking around and shaking his head at Sam. This was as close as they were going to get.

“Drop your guns!” a gruff voice demanded, and they could tell it was from above the crate they were behind. After exchanging a look, Dean dropped his gun to the ground and Sam followed suit. Rough hands gripped the back of Dean’s jacket, yanking him to his feet, and he could feel someone pulling Sam up on the other side of him. They were pulled into the center of the room and shoved before Michael who was standing beside Castiel’s chair.

As soon as Dean was released, he lunged forwards towards his mate. “Cas!”

Michael fired his gun into the air, sparks spraying down from the metal roof as the bullet hit it and Sam reached forward, gripping Dean’s shoulder tightly to stop him. Dean looked up at Michael’s face and glared as the Alpha smirked back at him before lowering his gun. Dean tore his eyes away from Michael and found Cas’.

“Are you okay?”

Castiel smiled back in response, his teeth stained with blood, and Dean growled at the sight. “It’s good to see you, Dean, but you and Sam should not have come.”

“Oh, on the contrary,” Michael chirped, “I am quite glad he came. It saves me the trouble of hunting them down to kill them. Also,” Michael smiled and looked down at Castiel. “This way, you can watch your mate die, just like you forced me to watch Hael die.”

Dean glanced away from Castiel and gave Michael a confused look. Michael grinned and added, “That's right, I know all about how my baby brother is your _whore_.”

Dean forced himself to swallow the growl that threatened to spill from his lips. Michael pointed his gun at Dean, his finger poised on the trigger. Dean held up both of his hands. “Woah, aren't you at least going to give a dying man one request?”

Michael lowered his gun and clicked his tongue. “What is it you want, Don Winchester?”

“A cigarette,” Dean replied with a shrug, keeping his eyes trained on Michael’s face.

Michael raised an eyebrow, glancing between the brothers before asking, “I wasn't aware you smoked.”

Dean shrugged again. “I don't. But if I’m going to die, I figured hey, no time like the present to start.”

“Someone give the Don a cigarette. Would you like one as well?” He turned to Sam, flicking his gun to the side to motion one of the Bratva members into action.

“Hell, why not,” Sam huffed, “It's not like it's gonna kill me right?” Michael turned to his men and while he was preoccupied, Dean shot Castiel a quick wink. A moment later, Dean watched Michael approaching them, two cigarettes in his hand. He held them out and both brothers slipped one between their lips. Michael, with his eyes trained on each of the Winchesters as he did so, leaned forward to light Sam’s and then Dean’s before stepping back.

“So… tell me Don Winchester, why Castiel? Surely you could have done better,” Michael sneered as Dean took a small puff of the cigarette and smirked around the filter.

He blew out a stream of smoke and smiled at Castiel before looking back at Michael. “He’s my true mate, there’s no doing better than that. And, if he weren’t my true mate? I would still choose him. He’s perfect, strong, smart, and there is no one else I would ever want to be with.”

Michael snorted and reached down, squeezing Castiel’s shoulder tightly. “Strong? Perfect? I don’t think so. He’s an Omega, automatically spoiled goods, and had to hide his identity from his entire family. That screams _trus_ to me.” He looked back at Dean and sneered, “He is a coward.”

Dean glared back at Michael, flicking hot ash from the end of the cigarette as he replied, “He was strong enough to lead this entire fucking Bratva for the past twelve years, gain extra territory and resources, and keep plenty of money in all of your fucking pockets. Not one of you had a problem until this bastard stepped forward for his own personal gains!” Dean addressed the rest of the Bratva.

Michael took a step forward, his fists clenched, but Sam cut him off, clearing his throat as he took a long drag from his cigarette. “Well Dean, as much fun as this has been and all… I think it’s time we get your mate and get out of here.”

Dean twisted the cigarette between his fingers. “You know, Sammy, I was just thinking the same thing.”

Michael burst out laughing, his anger at Dean momentarily forgotten as he shook his head. “You two cannot be serious! Do you really think you have any chance of making it out of here alive?”

Dean smirked at Sam, shrugging a shoulder. “Oh, I think we’ve got a slim chance.”

Sam hummed in agreement. “And I will take a slim chance over none.”

The brothers exchanged a look and Michael snorted, rolling his eyes. “You’re surrounded by fifty men. It’s just the two of you and my pathetic excuse for a brother tied up to a chair.”

“Ready, Sam?”

“Ready, Dean.”

The two flicked their cigarettes in Michael's direction, narrowly missing him. Dean watched, along with Michael and Sam and probably the rest of the Bratva, as the lit cigarettes arched and landed in the thinnest layer of alcohol on the concrete floor. Michael swore, his eyes widened in horror, as the alcohol caught fire and then spread, flames following the spilt alcohol, lighting up the boxes and shelves.

It was a frenzy as the men tried to move out of the way of the flames, but the fire spread too quickly and was licking its way up the shelves and blocking half of the exit ways. Some of the Bratva that were standing on the alcohol soaked floor, or who had gotten their clothes splashed and drenched, were fighting the fire as it made its way onto them.

“Don’t let them escape!” Michael screamed, stepping back onto a dry part of the warehouse. A large Russian that Dean recognized as the other byki normally guarding the offices, charged Sam and knocked him back. Sam kicked out at the man and Dean looked up just as Michael raised his gun and pointed it at Castiel.

“No!” Dean yelled over the commotion of the warehouse and lunged forward, slamming the Alpha into a wall of crates, but the sound of two shots echoed in Dean’s head. He spun around and saw Balthazar standing in front of Castiel, a shocked look on his face and his hands pressed against his stomach. Blood trickled from between Balthazar’s fingers and the man turned to look down at Castiel, a small smile on his lips as he dropped to his knees.

“I'm sorry, Brother. I don't care if you are an Omega you are _moya sem'ya_. You get out of here and take care of my niece or nephew.” Blood poured freely from Balthazar’s wounds and bubbled at the corner of his mouth as he took his last breath and crumbled to the concrete at Castiel’s feet.

“ _Durachit’_!” Michael screamed out and Dean moved to take him down for good, but not before he got off one more shot. The gun flew from Michael’s hand as Dean’s fist collided with his stomach and Michael responded with punches of his own. They fought for the upper hand, the sound of people fighting the flames or fighting to get out of the warehouse going on around them. Finally, Dean managed to elbow Michael in the throat, the Alpha choking on the sudden lack of air and Dean was able to get him on the ground, pinning him down with his knees. He reached into his jacket and pulled out his knife, plunging it deep into the center of Michael’s chest.

Michael gasped, a bubble of blood bursting from his mouth and splattering his chin as he stared in shock up at Dean. “That was for hurting my mate, you son of a bitch.” He twisted the blade, just for effect, and then withdrew it from Michael's chest, the Alpha’s eyes open but lifeless as they stared up at the ceiling.

To the side, Dean saw Sam pushing himself up from the ground, wiping blood from his hands onto his jeans. He turned to find Castiel’s chair toppled over. He saw his mate’s feet hanging over the top and a pool of blood forming around the base.

“No,” he whispered, his heart lodging in his chest. He dropped the knife, the blade clattering to the ground. “No, no, no,” he repeated as he scrambled over to the chair and fell to his knees beside his mate. Dean let his arms trail over his body, focusing on a large, wet red stain that was blossoming over his right shoulder.

“Hey,” Castiel whispered, giving a short laugh before pain crossed his expression.

“It’s just your shoulder,” Dean said as he wiped sweat slicked hair back from Castiel’s forehead, “He just got your shoulder.”

“Still fuckin’ hurts,” Cas hissed through gritted teeth.

Dean nodded and righted the chair, wincing as Castiel groaned. “Thank fuck you're alright, Cas.”

“Yeah and I'll be even better if you get me the fuck out of here,” Castiel rasped with a smirk on his face.

Dean huffed a small laugh and felt his pockets, cursing as he turned around to see the knife still by Michael’s body. He jogged over to it, returning to Castiel to cut him free of the ties. Dean reached for Castiel’s wrists, rubbing the raw skin that had been exposed to the ropes to get blood flow back.

“Alright, come on.” Dean pulled Castiel up into a standing position and then looked around the warehouse to see where Sam ended up. He was perched behind one of the only shelves that hadn’t caught fire and was shooting each Bratva member that was trying to flee.

“Come on, Cas, let's go.” Dean wrapped his arms around his mate, careful not to jostle his shoulder, and led him to the door. They picked their way through flames and bodies and broken glass, Cas wincing each time Dean tugged him to the side from falling debris.

“Duck!” Sam barked as Dean and Cas neared the door.

“Sorry,” Dean said automatically and yanked Castiel to the ground, once again wincing from the sound that escaped Cas’ throat. Above them, Sam pulled the trigger, taking out another member that was trying to escape from behind them.

“Come on!” Sam yelled as he hooked his gun into the door handle and wrenched the door open, kicking it with his boot so neither Dean or Cas would get burned from accidentally touching the metal door. Sam ushered them through and fired once more before the doors slammed shut behind them.

Castiel grimaced once and then looked around the new room they were in. “Dean,” he said as he nodded with his head to a gurney full of random bottle filling equipment. “Hand me that pipe.”

Dean nodded to Sam, his brother silently taking his place at Castiel’s side. They both knew Castiel wouldn’t take too kindly to being treated as ‘fragile’ despite the fact that he looked like he would fall over at any second. Dean retrieved the thick metal bar and handed it back to his mate, then took his place back under Cas’ good shoulder.

Together, they stumbled back towards the double doors and Castiel took a deep breath before he jammed the pipe through the handles, trapping the rest of his family inside the building to burn alive. Castiel twisted out of Dean’s hold and took a few steps back before collapsing to his knees. Dean rushed to his side and knelt down beside him, quickly trying to determine if he was in pain or mentally exhausted.

Dean shoved his hands into his pocket and threw the keys towards his brother. “Sam, go get the car!”

“No!” Castiel gasped, shaking his head. “You have to leave the Impala.”

Dean shook his head once, glancing between Sam, who had paused mid-step, and his mate who was bent over in pain. “Fine,” he burst out, looking back at Sam. “Just… get us a damn car. We’ve got to get the hell out of here and fast.”

Sam nodded and turned as Dean turned his attention back to Cas. He dipped down, picking Cas up easily and ignoring the small sound of protest that fell from his mate’s mouth. “We need to go, Cas,” Dean shouted in explanation and ran after his brother. Sam disappeared around the corner of a building and Dean shifted Cas higher in his arms.

All Dean could feel beating down on the dark leather of his jacket was heat, and he tried not to wonder if he was feeling the sun or the flames. He couldn’t, however, ignore the rise of screams and banging and crackling from the building they were fleeing.

He let out a slow breath and tried not to squeeze onto Castiel too tightly. “God, Cas, I am so goddamn glad you’re okay. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I’d lost you…”

“You could’ve _died_ , Dean!” Castiel hissed, but the sound was pained and didn’t have the effect Dean was sure he’d been going for. “Coming in there... just you and Sam with no backup. What were you thinking?”

“That I couldn't live without you, Cas. That's what I was thinking.” Dean answered, looking down to see Castiel looking over his shoulder at the burning building. They fell silent and Dean looked ahead to the parking lot where Sam was busy breaking into a car. “And we _did_ have a plan,” he added, drawing Cas’ attention back. “Sam looked into that window up there and he noticed the back exit was blocked by all the crates. He also noticed that every crate was filled with pure grain alcohol. We figured if we went in and got them to shoot at us as we darted behind as many crates as we could, we’d be making them bust all those bottles of alcohol. We managed to get around three sides of the room before we let them catch us.”

Cas huffed and rolled his eyes. “Yes and why Michael gave you a cigarette I’ll never know. I could see right through you and I was barely conscious....”

“Exactly! See? We had a plan.”

“A very foolish and flawed plan,” Cas bit back, “If Michael didn’t like to hear himself talk so fucking much… he would’ve just shot you.”

Dean shrugged. “I never said it was perfect, but, Cas,” he grinned at his mate, “I would do it again in a heartbeat. I couldn't have walked away, not without you.”

Castiel stared into his mate's eyes. “How did you even know where I was?”

“Got it Sammy?” Dean asked instead as they reached the Cadillac SUV Sam was at. Sam glanced up at him, then over Dean’s shoulder. Both of them knew the black billowing smoke that was now taking over the city sky would be missed for long.

“I’m good,” Sam answered and then slammed his elbow, hard, against the driver’s side door. “Fuck!” He winced and Dean flinched at the sound, but the window was spidered. Sam made quick work of the rest of the window and then got the car opened.

“Get it going, Sammy,” Dean said softly as he unlocked the back door and helped Castiel in, careful not to jostle his shoulder as he put him down.

“Dean,” Castiel pressed, pain flashing across his face as he shifted and leaned against the car door, “How did you know where I was?”

“We, uh, we found Gordon back in Boston. He’d taken Sam’s mate and that’s why… well, that’s why I went back to Boston in the first place.”

Castiel swallowed hard, both of them remembering the issue they had yet to talk about. Up front, the car suddenly roared to life and Sam made a triumphant sound as he hopped into the seat and slammed the door.

“Dean, shut the door.”

Dean complied, and Sam slammed the car into gear and took off down the back of the warehouse district just as the first sounds of sirens could be heard.

“Is she okay?” Castiel asked softly, and Dean met his eyes, his heart warming at Castiel’s genuine concern.

“She's fine, Cas. He roughed her up a bit, but she’s strong and she’s safe. Anyway,” Dean let out small growl, “Gordon let some things slip and we figured out that he was working with someone in the Bratva.” He looked unflinchingly at his mate. “We already knew about Lucifer, but it seemed bigger than that. Gordon mentioned that there was a plan to take over control and I knew then that you were in danger.” Dean let out a deep breath as he shook his head at himself. “I tried to call your cell, but it went straight to voicemail… that’s when I really started to worry.

Cas reached out with his undamaged hand and rested it on Dean’s arm. He gave it a gentle squeeze that conveyed understanding and forgiveness.

Dean covered Cas’ hand with his own, then reached out to steady him as Sam swung the tiny car around a tight corner and headed towards the highway. The movement caused fresh blood to well down Cas’ arm and Dean looked down at the small puddle that was forming beneath his mate. Silently, he shifted closer and put pressure against the wound. Then he answered, “When we got Jess back to the house, Sam called Alastair and I kept trying to call you. Finally, Sam got in contact with an old friend from college, calls himself, ‘Doctor Badass’.” Dean allowed himself a small chuckle. “Between him and Gabriel, we hacked into the server at the club and figured out the truth, that Michael was the mastermind all along.” He looked into his mate’s pained gaze. “He’d been planning on taking over your position for months. God, Cas!”

“So, I’ve learned,” Cas nodded, looking down their joined hands.

Dean sucked in a long breath. “Anyway, this Doctor Badass guy was good, like FBI hacker good. He was able to pull up the sale records for this warehouse so we had an address, then he got us into the employee emails.”

“I should have realized…” Castiel said softly and Dean immediately silenced him by crushing their lips together.

“No, don’t,” he whispered against Castiel’s mouth, “Michael has been planning this for years. He was good, too good. I’m just glad we stopped him before it was too late.”

“I was so sure I would never see you again, Dean,” Castiel whispered back against his lips and it made Dean’s entire chest tighten.

“Well I'm Goddamn glad that's not the case,” Dean replied.

“All I could think,” Cas’s voice betrayed his pain, “was that I was never going to see my mate again and that I was never going to have to opportunity to hold our pup…”

Sam swerved and glanced over his shoulders wide eyed. “I'm _really_ going to be an uncle?”

“Not if you keep driving like that!” Dean answered sharply at the same time Cas answered, his head turned to the side so he could look Dean in the eyes, “Yes, Sam, you are going to be an uncle.”

Sam glanced over his shoulder again smiling. “That's.... wow, I don't know wha-”

“Eyes on the road, Samantha! We can braid each other's hair and have our chick flick moments later. First we have to get Cas to a hospital,” Dean’s voice was stern but he was smiling as he looked down at Cas. This meant… Dean’s heart skipped a beat as he realized he was going to be a dad.

“No,” Castiel stated, shaking his head.

“Okay, no hospital. Crowley then.”

“No,” Castiel repeated.

“What the fuck do you mean ‘no’?” Dean argued, resisting the urge to make Castiel turn to face him, “Castiel Krushnic, you have been shot in the shoulder, you are losing blood!” He continued putting pressure on his mate’s shoulder.

“Then _you_ ” Cas’s gaze bore into Dean’s, “will need to take care of me. I can't go to the hospital and I can't go to Crowley!” He struggled to sit up, but Dean kept him resting back. “Look,” he grabbed Dean’s arm, “as far as everyone is concerned? Castiel Krushnic died in that fire with his Bratva.”

“Why, Cas?” Dean asked.

Castiel shifted and raised his hand to place it on his mate's cheek. “Because this is my way out, Dean. My fresh start. This is a way for us to raise our pup in peace without fear of a rival family coming after them, or without me having to worry about something happening to me and leaving our pup with one less parent. My Bratva is dead, there is nothing left for me as Pakhan.”

Dean blew out a slow breath, could feel Sam’s eyes on him from the rearview mirror. He hesitated, then asked, “Are you sure this is what you want, Cas?”

Castiel nodded. “Yes, I'm sure Dean.” Cas gave Dean’s hand a gentle squeeze. “You do realize that I can't come back to Boston with you.” Dean saw a new gentleness in his mate’s eyes. “That I'm going to have to leave the country? I need to get as far away from here as I can.”

Dean opened his mouth and Castiel placed his fingers over it. “I'm not asking anything from you, Dean. I understand that you have family obligations and we will figure out whatever we need to. You can go back for your Impala… I was just worried that Michael would have more men--”

Dean grabbed Castiel's hand and pulled it away from his lips, holding it tightly in his own. “The _only_ family obligations I have are to my family in _this_ car. Do you really think I would let you go off on your own and raise our kid without me? Not a chance, Cas. Where you go? I go.”

Cas’ eyes shined with unshed tears for a moment before he blinked them away and let them fall shut. Dean gave him a small smile and then frowned as he realized how pale his mate was. Carefully, he reached into his pocket to pull out his phone. “Hey, Sam? Take us to the cabin.”

Sam nodded. “Hold tight, Cas, we will get you patched up soon.”

Castiel smiled, his voice barely audible as he said, “Thank you, Sam.”

Dean stared at the phone in his hand, twisting it before he let out a long sigh. He had a phone call to make. Dean scrolled through his contacts and stopped on Benny. He took a deep breath before he pressed the call button and pressed it against his ear. At the rough ‘Hello’ barked at him, Dean started talking quickly.

“Benny-- don't let on to anyone who you are on the phone with and if you are in a room with others I need you to step out and take this call. Understand?” Dean heard Benny muffle a, ‘I gotta take this call,’ and then heard the sound of footsteps and a door being opened.

Dean heard the door shut followed by his friend’s worried tone. “Dean what the hell is going on? Why can't I let the family know who I am talking to? They are worried about you.”

Dean felt a slight pang of guilt about what he was getting ready to put his family through but as Castiel pressed closer to his side and he took in their mated scent, it slightly quelled his guilt. He knew this was a hard decision but in the long run it was best for him, Cas, and their pup.

“Benny I don't have time to explain what's going on,” Dean rushed, “and in truth? This is a conversation that needs to be had face to face. I need you to get Rufus and the two of you pick up Bobby’s body and meet us at the cabin.”

“What cabin?”

“Rufus and Bobby own a hunting cabin in Vermont. We’re on our way there now and we will be waiting for you. Just remember, Benny,” Dean had steel in his voice as he cautioned his friend, “not a word on who you talked to, make up a story about where you and Rufus are going. He's the only other person beside you that's to know what's going on.”

Dean heard Benny sigh. “I don't know what the hell is going on, but you can count on me Brotha.”

“I know, Benny, that's why it was you I called,” Dean replied.

“Alright… I’ll go find Rufus.”

“I will explain everything as soon as you two get here,” Dean promised and felt Castiel squeeze his hand gently.

“See you soon, Boss,” Benny replied before the line went dead. Dean pressed the off button on his phone and dropped it to the seat beside him before he placed his chin on top of Cas’ shoulder, letting their scents steady him. This was for them, for his mate and their pup. For _family._

 

 

 

 

**Rufus & Bobby’s Hunting Cabin | Quaker Village Road | Weybridge, Vermont**

 

Sam managed to make it to the cabin in record time and soon, Dean was helping Cas get to the couch. He called out to Sam to grab him Bobby’s ‘special first aid kit’, a few towels, and a bottle of vodka. Then he started to work on freeing Castiel from his shirt. He carefully pulled the fabric that started to dry and stick to Cas’ skin away and then took a good look at the gunshot wound.

“Good news, Cas!” Dean looked at his mate with a huge grin, “It's a clean through and through, so no having to dig the bullet out. I’ll just need to clean it and stitch it up. Luckily, Bobby and Rufus always keep a supply of antibiotics.” He finished ridding Cas of his shirts and added, “We’ll start you on those so you won't get an infection.”

Cas nodded slowly, too tired to respond, and Dean was grateful when Sam came back into the living room with the supplies.

Dean opened the box and immediately got a packet of ibuprofen, ripping the packet open and tipping the pills into Cas’ hand. “Take these, it will help some.”

Castiel snorted slightly and popped them into his mouth, accepting the glass of water Sam handed to him. “Yeah… in half an hour…” he muttered and Dean ignored him as he fished out the rest of his supplies.

He set up the side of the couch and behind Castiel’s shoulder with two towels, then laid out the supplies he would need on the table. He grabbed a lighter and heated the needle tip in a flame before pouring vodka over it and threading it. He placed it to the side and then accepted a clean towel from his brother.

Dean grabbed the bottle of vodka and poured at least half of it onto the towel, already apologizing as he lifted it to the wound. “This is going to hurt like a bitch, Cas,” Dean warned as he pressed the towel against the front of Cas’ shoulder and started to clean the hole.

“ _Chertova mat' grebanyy sukin syn etoy ukusy_!” Castiel growled through gritted teeth, his fist clenching against his knee. “I really wish,” he panted through the pain, “I could have some of that vodka… instead of those damn pills.”

“No can do, Cas.” Dean shook his head, shifting forward so he could get the back of the wound. “Not with a baby on board.”

Castiel mumbled in Russian under his breath as Dean finished cleaning the wound.

Dean dropped the towel to the floor between his legs and then reached for the needle. “I’m going to start with the front.”

Castiel grunted his approval and Dean picked the curved needle back before leaning forward to get to work. His fingers worked meticulously, almost gracefully, as the needle glided through Castiel's flesh like melted butter. Dean weaved the needle in and out, piecing Castiel skin back together until he was content with the results. He tied a simple knot in the thread and then moved to the back of his mate’s shoulder. After forty-five minutes of suturing, and Castiel cursing his existence more than once, he was done.

“Alright, I’ll be back with some antibiotics.” Dean got up from his spot on the floor and gathered up all the trash and laundry to take with him.

“Thank you,” Castiel said as he sunk back into the couch and shut his eyes. Dean nodded and left the room.

“Do you think he’s going to need blood?” Sam asked when Dean entered the kitchen, taking the laundry from his arms. There was a pot of water going on the stove and a teacup set off to the side on the counter. Dean sighed as he moved to the trash can.

“I don’t know… I hope not. We won’t be able to do something like that here. We’ll start him on the antibiotics and just see how it goes.” Sam nodded as he fixed a cup of tea and waited for Dean to grab a large bottle of amoxicillin. Together they entered the living room and Cas opened his eyes when he heard them approach.

Dean opened the bottle and shook out a pill, handing it to Cas along with the rest of the water. Cas nodded gratefully and swallowed it down, handing the now empty glass over to Dean. Sam handed over the cup of tea and Castiel smiled gratefully at him as he accepted it.

“Thank you, Sam, that was kind of you.”

“No problem,” Sam replied as he went back into the kitchen. He returned with two beers and handed one to Dean before he sank down into the recliner and took a deep swig of his bottle. After a moment, he spoke. “I know what you're planning, Dean. I know that you are going to use that fire at the warehouse as your way out of the family business, just like Castiel is.”

Dean opened his mouth to speak but Sam continued.

“I want out, too, Dean.” He held his brother’s gaze. “I want to live a normal life with my mate, too. I wanted to properly mate her the moment we met,” he shook his head and took another swig, “but I was so damn scared. Scared something would happen to me or even worse something would happen to her. Then I did, and look what happened! That shit that went down with Gordon,” he huffed in near disbelief, “was a huge wakeup call, I could have lost her.”

“You didn’t.”

“Thank whatever powers that be.” Sam sighed and ran his fingers back through his hair. “I don't know what I would have done if that _had_ happened. Right now, every part of me is itching to get back to Boston and to be with her. I never want to see her hurt like that again, and I definitely don't want her worrying every day if I'm going to come home or not.” Sam paused and took a sip of his beer. “I... I want to have kids someday.” He threw a small smile over at Cas and Dean who had taken a seat beside his mate. “And I want to watch my niece or nephew grow up.”

Dean nodded as he listened to Sam’s words, then leaned forward to place his beer on the table. He pushed off of the couch and crossed the small space that separated them before he wrapped Sam in a tight hug. “I'm so glad to hear you say that, Sammy. I couldn't imagine not having you in my life.”

Sam squeezed Dean tighter, mumbling into his shoulder, “Like you could get rid of me, Jerk.”

Dean laughed as he pulled back and gently cuffed Sam upside the head. “Bitch.”

Dean felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and he pulled it out, looking down at his text from Benny. ‘Just made it to town be there in about twenty.’

Dean looked at his brother then at Cas. “Benny and Rufus just made it to town, they’ll be here soon.”

Castiel nodded and let his eyes fall shut again. Dean looked over at Sam. “I’m going to get some things ready out back,” he ticked his head toward Cas, “Just, keep an eye on him?”

Sam nodded and Dean took his leave out the back of the cabin, heading straight for the tree line. The winters at the cabin were usually harsh, and for that Dean was grateful. It made it easier for him to collect downed saplings and large branches to build a pyre.

As he was dragging out the wood, Benny and Rufus arrived and silently started helping him. In the end, only a few trees needed to actually be cut, and they were mostly for support. When they were finished building the structure, Rufus shook his head as he looked over at Dean.

“Bobby taught you to do this.”

Dean nodded and headed over to the large shed at the back of the property for lighter fluid. Dean had been to many funerals in his lifetime, but it had been his mother’s funeral that stuck out for more than one reason.

 

_“Uncle Bobby… What are we doing out here?” Dean sighed as he crouched down to pick up the downed log Bobby had pointed out. This was pointless… His mother was murdered six days ago, John hadn’t stopped drinking since he found out, and Sam was too busy making sure their dad wasn’t going to blow his brains out that Dean had been trapped with his own mind the entire time._

_Bobby reached for the wheels of his chair and spun it around in the soft earth, staring hard at Dean before he answered, “This family business of ours sucks, Dean. It ain’t easy. We lose people, good people, and more often than not? We lose family.” Dean swallowed hard, his hands tightening on his end of the log as he forced himself to hold Bobby’s gaze. “Even worse? Most of the time when we lose the people we truly love? It’s our own damn fault, it’s because we fucked something up, and we will forever live with that guilt. It doesn’t go away, not ever.”_

_“Yeah, I know,” Dean whispered the log slipping from his hands and falling with a soft thump into the pine needles._

_“No, you don’t.” Bobby shook his head, reaching up to pull his hat off and rub his hand over the top of his head. “But unfortunately you will. It’s part of the business, part of who we are.”_

_“So… building a bonfire is going to make you feel better? I don’t-- I don’t get what we’re doing out here Bobby! This isn’t a vacation, I don’t want to be at this fucking cabin where all I can remember is… is waking up and Mom being downstairs making us bacon and eggs and telling us we better get outside and to fishing or we wouldn’t be eating anything for dinner. We should be home, planning her funeral, and getting fucking revenge on that bastard!”_

_Bobby was silent for a moment, took his time putting his hat back onto his head, and then he asked, “Then what?”_

_“What?”_

_“Then what?” Bobby growled, “Once your mother’s buried in the middle of the city, some cold stone with her name carved into it sitting there for people to look at, morn at or vandalize,” his eyes snapped at Dean’s, “once Bulger is dead and cold, probably into the ground three plots down from Mary,” he leaned toward his future boss, “then what? You go back to the same ol’ shit, Dean. And are you going to feel any better? Are you going to feel like you did anything for your mom?”_

_Dean opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. Killing Whitey Bulger would be the only thing they could do for Mary, the only revenge, only justice they could get. He shook his head, not understanding where the hell Bobby was going with this, and still not understanding why they --_ **_he_ ** _\-- was dragging wood out of the woods to make a fucking bonfire._

_“This is for your mom, Dean.” Bobby’s voice got softer, he looked around the property. “This was the one place she could be herself. She didn’t have to worry if John would come home with a gunshot wound, if you or Sam would be taken by a rival gang, if a member of the family would come storming into the house pissed off about something or with news that would turn all our lives upside down.” He peered over at Dean. “She doesn’t deserve to be left to rot in that city, boy.”_

_Dean felt his throat go dry and tight with the effort to hold back the sob that wanted to escape. He felt his eyes mist over but blinked them back and gave a tight nod._

_“We’re Italian,” Bobby continued in that same soft voice, “we’ve got the family business and our own set of rules, but we’re also human. And that, Dean,” his mouth ticked into a grimace, “is the hardest thing to remember. It’s so easy to fire off a shot at someone who’s not in our family, so easy to pick up a knife or a gun and get what’s ours, so easy to forget that at the other end of our bullets and our blades is a person like you and me who also has a family, a mother and a father, brothers and sisters, or mates of their own._

_“So right now?” Bobby backed his chair up and turned toward the pile of tree limbs. “We’re gonna build a pyre and we’re going to celebrate every good thing that Mary brought to our lives, because those good things are few and far between.” He let out a long breath, and locked onto Dean’s gaze again. “Then we’re going to think about our lives, what is important to us, remember the people that we still have left and the people that Mary loved because they are still here. We’re even going to think about Bulger, and we’re going to forget that he was the one who pulled the trigger--hard as that may be-- and we’re going to remember that he, too, is human, has a family, and we’re going to wish that he’s safe in his bed tonight.”_

_“I’m not doing that, Bobby!” Dean fired back, shoving himself up to his feet. “I’m not wishing that bastard well at all! Why the fuck would any of us--”_

_“You sit down and don’t you dare raise your voice to me, Dean Winchester,” Bobby growled, “You and I both know you were raised better than that!” Bobby shoved forward in his chair, closing the space between them and causing Dean to lose his balance and fall back onto the log. “You are going to do it. You’re going to do what I damn well tell you, because right now I am your elder and I outrank you!”_

_Dean swallowed hard and gave a short, stiff nod. Bobby glared down at him for a moment before his expression softened. “Now, the reason we’re going to wish Whitey well is because tomorrow? All bets are off and we’re going to make a plan to gank that rat bastard. Everyone deserves one night of peace before they’re gone, don’t you agree?”_

_Slowly, Dean smiled and gave Bobby a nod before he reached down to drag the log out to the half formed pile at the edge of the yard._

 

“Can you guys set up a chair for Cas please?” Dean asked as he doused the pyre with lighter fluid and then tossed the plastic bottle into the center. “Sam and I will get Bobby.”

Benny nodded and Rufus headed to the shed for the camping chairs while Benny headed inside for Castiel. Dean waited a minute and then looked up to see Sam heading towards him, a white sheet bundled in his arms. Together they walked to the large SUV and opened up the back, revealing a large, black body bag from the hospital.

Exhaling slowly, Dean reached forward and unzipped the bag completely. Bobby could almost appear as if he were sleeping, except for the blushing pallor to his skin and the tiny hole in the center of his head. Beside him, Sam let out his own breath.

“Alastair did good. Bobby would’ve hated it,” Sam said and Dean had to agree.

“Pretty sure he’s wearing make-up.” They waited a second, just looking at Bobby. Sam was the first to move. He unfolded the sheet and together they wrapped Bobby’s body in it, tucking the edges carefully and neatly so the entire top of Bobby’s body was smooth and white.

“I’ll grab his shoulders.” Sam’s voice was soft, and part of Dean wanted to ask why the hell they were whispering-- it wasn’t like Bobby would be offended, it wasn’t like anyone could hear them way out here in the woods-- but he didn’t want to break the silence.

Together they picked their way carefully around the house, careful of rocks and roots that littered the yard until they made it to the large pyre at the edge of the property. Rufus and Benny moved to help and the four men settled Bobby’s body on the top of the stack.

Sam, Rufus, and Benny moved back, standing in line with where Castiel was sitting in the chair, watching what was going on before him. Dean met his eyes and then pulled a matchbook from his pocket. He lit the book, swallowed hard, and then dropped it onto the side closest to him.

In seconds, the pyre went up in flames, wood cracking out is protest and the white sheet smoking and turning black. Dean stepped back, staring at Bobby’s body as it started to burn.

“Do… do we say anything?” Castiel asked softly, and the rest of the group shook their heads, all of them watching as the pyre burned.

“No,” Dean answered out loud, giving a small smile as he looked to where Bobby’s head was. “We reflect, we remember, and we move on.”

Castiel nodded and silence fell over them again. Birds chirped from behind them as they flew tree to tree, trying to get out of the way of the smoke’s path and the wood started to pop and crack as pieces broke and started to crumble. By the time the pyre was burned to the ground, Bobby’s body was ash and the sky had darkened completely.

They stared at the ground until the fire was completely out.

“Come on, Dean,” Sam whispered, reaching over to squeeze Dean’s shoulder. Dean looked up to see Cas was shifting, uncomfortable in the chair, but he would be damned if he said so. Dean nodded and rounded the pile of ash, reaching down to take Castiel’s good arm and help him to his feet, then the group made their way across the yard and back into the cabin.

“Let’s… get some sleep,” Rufus said as he shut and locked the door behind them. “We can talk in the morning.” When no one argued, they all moved in separate directions -- Cas and Dean heading upstairs to the master bedroom, Rufus to the second, and Benny and Sam flipped coins for the last bedroom or the couch.

Dean helped Cas get out of his clothes, ignoring Cas’ protests that he was fine in what he was in. Dean just didn’t want to smell the smoke anymore. He crawled into bed behind Castiel, careful of his shoulder, and wrapped himself around Castiel’s back, pressing his nose against his mate’s throat and immediately falling asleep.

 

 

Dean woke up with a crick in his neck and it took him a second to realize why he was so warm. He blinked his eyes open, immediately seeing the back of Castiel’s head, and let out a slow, satisfied breath.

Cas was safe. For now, they were both safe. Dean pushed himself closer against his mate’s back, wincing when Cas made a pained grunt.

“Shoulder, Dean.” Castiel’s voice was sleep soaked, gruff, and Dean just smiled and squeezed him once more before moving back.

“Pain is good. It means you’re alive.”

Cas rolled over and glared up at Dean, raising his good arm to wipe the sleep from his eyes. “So if I punch you for knocking into my shoulder, it will be okay because the pain means you’re alive?”

Dean smirked back in response and pushed up onto his elbow before leaning forward and capturing Cas’ lips with his own. “I love you, too.”

They froze in tandem and Dean felt his eyes widen as he stared down at his mate, nerves suddenly replacing the comfortable warmth he’d been feeling moments before. He swallowed hard, suddenly finding his mouth dry and he forced himself to smile.

“I… I’m going to go and see if everyone else is up,” Dean scrambled to sit up, “and I’ll get you some pain meds and…the antibiotics! Because you have to take them all or else, I mean, who knows what could happen, and we don’t want to--”

“Dean.”

Dean snapped his mouth shut and met Cas’ eyes, swallowing down the rest of the words in his mouth. “I love you,” Cas whispered and Dean felt like his entire heart exploded. He smiled and surged forward, careful this time of his mate’s shoulder and found his mouth again, kissing him as hard as he could. When they broke apart, Cas was smiling sleepily. “Now go make me breakfast, Alpha. I’ve got a baby growing in here.”

“You got it.” Dean smiled back, kissing Cas’ forehead as he pushed off the bed and headed downstairs. In the kitchen, Sam was standing in his boxers at the coffee pot, pouring himself a fresh mug, and Benny was sitting with Rufus at the small kitchen table.

“Morning, Princess,” Rufus said as he took a sip of his coffee and Dean was hit with a pang as he immediately thought of Bobby. He gave a small smile in Rufus’ direction and shoved Sam out of the way to pour two mugs of coffee.

“Dean… Cas shouldn’t be having caffeine,” Sam pointed out, and then reached over to drag Cas’ mug towards himself. He plopped a caffeine free tea bag into the cup and then walked to the stove for a pot of hot water. “I already made up some breakfast, too, while you guys took your sweet time waking up.”

Dean stared and accepted the tray Sam shoved into his hands-- a bowl of oatmeal, an apple that Sam had already cut up, and the hot cup of tea complete with Cas’ pills beside them. Dean raised an eyebrow and glanced up at his brother.

“First off,” Dean glowered,” what the fuck are you doing? Nesting? With _my_ mate instead of your own?” Sam glared back and reached for his cup of coffee. “And second?” Dean leaned into his brother’s space, “You tell him he’s not allowed coffee! I am not touching that with a ten foot fucking pole.”

“Go.” Sam rolled his eyes and grabbed his own breakfast before joining the other two at the table.

Dean sighed and grabbed the tray, taking the steps two at a time to return to the bedroom. When he pushed open the door, his heart skipped a beat when he saw that Castiel wasn’t in the bed.

“Cas?” Dean called out, sliding the tray onto the bureau and walking further into the room. He was met with the sound of retching in the bathroom.

He made his way across the room and pushed the door open, seeing Cas with his knees on either side of the toilet base and his head laying on top of his arms which were folded over the toilet seat.

“Hey… you okay?” Dean stood in the doorway and Castiel groaned as he lifted up his head and pinned Dean with an icy stare.

“Am I okay?” Cas repeated and Dean had the sudden urge to run back downstairs. Somehow, he knew the conversation he would be having with Benny and Rufus would be a million times easier than whatever conversation he and Cas were about to have. “Do I look like I’m okay, Dean?”

“Um,” Dean scratched nervously at his morning scruff, “You look like you could be better.”

“Coffee,” Cas sighed as he fell back onto his butt, stretching his legs to the side of him and leaning back against the tub. “Just. Get. Me. Coffee.”

Dean chuckled nervously and nodded before he said, “Well, no can do,” Dean wiggled his brows, “but I brought you some nice soothing tea. How’s that sound?”

Castiel glared back up at him, his hand running circles over his stomach. “That sounds like it’s not what I asked for.”

“Well, that’s all I have.” He picked up the cup. “Um… Sam said that you can’t have coffee,” Dean said the last part in one breath but from the expression on Castiel’s face, he knew that his mate had heard every word.

“Excuse me?” Cas glowered briefly before his eyes shutting as his entire body convulsed again. He took a few short, deep breaths before pinning Dean with the same stare. “What do you mean ‘Sam said’ I can’t have coffee?”

“Well… because of the baby?”

“Is that a question or a statement, Dean?”

Dean stared back, suddenly unsure of what he was supposed to say. He could answer the question, but somehow that felt like a mistake. He was saved from having to respond when Castiel plowed forward, “Are you telling me that not only did I wake up this morning to puke my guts out, the smell of whatever the hell you have out there making me want to freaking crawl into the toilet and never leave, my shoulder is fucking killing me, and now I can’t have coffee?”

Dean gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

“This is all your fault!”

“Hey, I didn’t shoot you!” Dean argued back and Cas shoved to his feet, pushing past Dean and back into the bedroom.

“It’s _your_ fault!” Cas repeated, throwing himself back onto the bed and pulling the comforter up over his head.

Dean stared at him for a second and then looked over at the tray on the dresser. “Um… I’m sorry?” he offered as he made his way to the side of the bed. “Do you… um, you want breakfast?”

Castiel mumbled something from beneath the covers and Dean leaned forward.

“I’m sorry… what?”

“Get out!” Cas yelled, throwing the blanket back so Dean could hear him. Dean hesitated and Castiel added, “Now!”

“Okay! Okay!” Dean almost tripped over his feet as he made his way back to the door and grabbed the tray. “Do you want me to leave anything--”

“Not unless you want me to puke everything everywhere!” Castiel snapped and Dean nodded, taking the tray with him as he moved out into the hallway. No sooner had he blown out a breath he hadn’t remembered holding than Castiel was calling his name.

“Yeah?” Dean stuck his head back into the room and Castiel peeked at him from under the blanket.

“Um… maybe just the apple,” Cas lowered the covers just enough to be heard. “And the tea.”

Dean nodded, not trusting himself to speak and quickly left the requested items before fleeing the room with the rest of the tray. When he dropped it on the counter, he turned to look at Sam with wide eyes.

Rufus was chuckling into his coffee. “Hormones are a bitch, aren’t they?”

Dean glanced between them and nodded once before taking the empty seat at the table. He nodded gratefully as Benny shoved him a coffee and looked up to see his friend staring at him.

“So… the Pakhan…” Benny said after a moment, clearing his throat. “Didn’t expect that.”

Dean gave a soft laugh and nodded. “Yeah… it’s been quite the wild ride.” Beside him, Sam nodded his head and Dean nudged his leg under the table. “And it’s also why we’re here.”

“Here we go,” Rufus sighed and downed the rest of his coffee. “You’re just like your mama.”

“What?” Dean looked over at his older capo, shaking his head in confusion. He’d been compared to John a million times before, by nearly everyone he knew, but to be compared to Mary?

“Your mate up there smells like a Goddamn Christmas tree,” Rufus’s gruff voice reminded Dean of Bobby. “Wasn’t hard to notice that not only did you mate the Pakhan, but you two are expectin’. When your mama found out she was pregnant with you, and then again with Sam, she begged John for the exact change I bet you’re about to propose to us now.”

Dean glanced over at Sam and then back at Rufus. “Well… It’s time for a change,” Dean agreed and twisted his mug in his hands. “These past few weeks have made me realize a lot about this life, the dangers I put my family in every day, and…” Dean stopped and gave a soft laugh. “I don’t know what that pup is going to be, but I want him or her to have something more than this, you know?”

Rufus nodded, looking out the window and Dean remembered that Rufus had lost his entire family, too, years ago. Even Benny had watched a mate being taken from him far too soon. Dean bit down on his lower lip and shook his head.

“I love this Family,” Dean said quietly, “I would do anything for it. My dad built up an empire that made our city, our family, great. And I am so damn proud of us. But…”

“You gave everything you were free to give,” Benny supplied and Dean nodded his head, giving his friend a grateful smile.

“I don’t want to give any more of myself. I don’t think I can be the leader that the Family will need me to be, not anymore.” Dean drummed his fingers on the table and looked up at Rufus and then Benny. “Other than Sam and Bobby,” he looked from man to man, “you two were the ones I’ve trusted with my life. I trust you two with everything. And it’s really a no brainer…”

“The Family isn’t just going to accept you steppin’ down brotha.” Benny shook his head and Sam cleared his throat, gaining their attention.

“The entire Bratva was killed last night in a warehouse fire. It was unfortunate that they were all stuck inside.” He looked pointedly at both men. “Castiel Krushnic included as well as the Winchester brothers who were meeting with the Bratva to communicate new business plans.”

Benny nodded in understanding and licked his lower lip before he answered. “It was quite a tragic accident,” he hitched forward in his chair, “We’re going to have to do our best to find out who the culprit was that locked our bosses in that fucking warehouse with the Russians.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. “But with no trail to follow,” he grimaced, “you might just have to accept the way things are and unfortunately, as hard as it is, Benny,” he looked his friend squarely in the eye, “you, my friend, are going to have to take the place of Don. You know it would be what the Winchester’s both would’ve had wanted.”

Benny’s eyes widened and he quickly shook his head, glancing over at Rufus before looking back at Dean. “Me? You want me to take over? I… I can’t do that. There’s better people. Rufus has way more experience and--”

“And I’ll be cold and six feet under before you even get settled. Doing that job will raise my blood pressure or some shit and ensure my grave even earlier,” Rufus countered and met Dean’s eyes. “Bobby would’ve been proud of you. Mary, even John, too.”

Dean swallowed hard and nodded once. “This… this is effective immediately. You know what happens when a Don is killed.” He took a deep breath and smiled encouragingly at Benny, “So… you’ll have to go and set that up. I doubt you’ll find any resistance, but if you do, I trust you’ll be able to handle it.”

Benny nodded and glanced over at Rufus again. “I… uh, want you to be my Consigliere.”

“Well no shit stupid,” Rufus groused, “I ain’t letting you run this thing on your own.”

“I think that’s stupid, _Sir_.”

Rufus glared and pointed a finger straight at Benny. “Don’t push it.”

Dean smiled at them and then looked over at Sam whose expression matched exactly how Dean was feeling; sad, but hopeful.

“Hey, uh Benny? Jess is at Dean’s house…” Sam started and Benny cut him off.

“I’ll get her out here, don’t you worry. I’ll have to share the news of her mate’s demise privately, and I’ll give her instructions on how to get here.”

Sam nodded his thanks and the four of them sat in comfortable silence for a moment. Then Rufus pushed away from the table and took his coffee cup to the sink.

“Well,” he turned to the two boys he’d watched come up, “make sure you leave the cabin as you found it. I’ll still hunt your ass down and beat you if you leave it a mess.”

Dean smiled and stood, shaking Rufus’ hand. “Thanks, Rufus. For everything.” Rufus nodded and turned to Sam, shaking his hand as well before he grabbed his small bag and headed outside for the car.

“Look mighty good for a corpse,” Benny tried to joke, then reached forward and pulled Dean into a hug, clapping him on the back a few times. “Just… try to keep in touch?”

“Of course,” Dean lied. They all knew this would be the last time they would ever see one another. “You take care of yourself, Benny.”

“You too, Brother,” Benny replied, hugging him once more before moving to Sam. He waved goodbye to the brothers at the door and exited, leaving them standing in the kitchen in silence.

“I… don’t know what to do now,” Sam said after a moment, glancing over at Dean. “I… feel like I should be doing something.”

“Welcome to retirement, Sammy,” Dean replied, cuffing Sam on the shoulder and turning to the stairs. “Let’s get some real damn food.”

Sam rolled his eyes but didn’t reply as Dean made his way upstairs to get Castiel. His mate looked better this time, sitting on the edge of the bed, now dressed, and sipping on his mug of tea. Castiel looked up as Dean entered and gave him a sheepish smile.

“Umm… this is pretty good,” he offered, holding up the cup. Dean chuckled and took the mug from his hands, reaching for his good arm to help him up.

“Come on, we’re going to get some real food.”

Castiel nodded and after begrudgingly allowing Dean to help him get his shoes on, the three men piled into the stolen SUV and headed to a local diner. The three of them ate in a companionable silence, Castiel only feeling nauseous once, and after they ate they sat and talked about random things --from the weather, to the sports on the television-- until the next rush of patrons came in.

When they made it back to the cabin, it was early afternoon, and it was an unspoken agreement that the rest of the day would be spent doing nothing. It had been an emotionally trying past few days for all of them. They watched a few shows on television, and Dean couldn’t recall what any of them had been. Finally, Sam broke the silence and declared he was going to his room to call Jess.

“Come on,” Dean nudged Cas gently from where he’d been snoozing on the couch. “Let’s get you some more pain medication and go relax in bed.”

Castiel nodded, following Dean into the kitchen and accepting the ibuprofen and glass of water with a small smile. Then they made their way together up into the master bedroom. Silently, Dean led them into the bathroom and started to strip Cas carefully from his clothes. Cas closed his eyes and leaned into every one of his mate’s touches, stepping back to watch as Dean removed his own clothing and bent over to start the shower.

Dean smiled as Cas sighed and seemed to melt into the warmth of the shower. Slowly, Dean started washing the dried blood and sweat and dirt that clothes had hidden but still clung to his mate’s skin. He was gentle around his shoulder wound, and then allowed Cas to do the same for him. Once they were done, they dried off and put on the bathrobes that had been folded amongst the towels.

It was surreal knowing that when Jess arrived tomorrow their new lives would begin. They wouldn’t have to worry about anything or anyone other than themselves.

“We’re going to have to call Gabe and let him know that you’re alive.” Dean said as Castiel collapsed onto the side of the bed.

His mate nodded, “Tomorrow.”

Dean chuckled and moved to his side of the bed, climbing onto it. He stopped Cas before he could lay down. “Strip. I want to help you relax.” Cas gave him a look but complied, sliding carefully out of the bathrobe and followed Dean’s instructions to lay face down. He stretched out, and Dean grabbed a thinner pillow to put beneath Cas’ shoulder, before he slipped out of his own robe and climbed up behind him.

He’d felt how stressed out his mate was in the shower and he knew the perfect way to help alleviate it. He slid over Cas’ thighs and leaned forward to whisper against his ear, “Just relax and enjoy.”

Cas groaned as Dean began to massage his good shoulder and back. He gently worked out all the kinks before going lower, rubbing soothing circles into every inch of his mate from head to toe.

“Roll over,” Dean instructed as he nudged his mate’s thigh. Castiel rolled onto his back his cock hanging heavy between his legs, hard and dripping precum. The smell of fresh slick permeated the air. Dean growled, the sound rumbling low in his chest.

“Are you enjoying your massage, Cas?”

“Mmmmmm,” Cas hummed, completely blissed out. His body was limp and pliant under his mate’s hands and Dean worked his way back up Cas’ body, worshipping it with gentle nips and kisses. Dean nuzzled Castiel's stomach, placing kiss after kiss against the warm flesh, relishing the fact that his pup was growing inside there.

Dean sighed and slid his fingers up his Omega’s thighs and over his groin, gripping Castiel's hard cock and sliding his hand up and down the length, slow and teasing. Cas’ hands lifted and gripped tightly in Dean’s hair.

“Oh, God, Dean,” Castiel moaned as he spread his legs wider, welcoming the warmth of his mate between them.

“You like that?” Dean murmured against his mate’s thigh. “Bet you will really like this then.” Dean’s tongue darted out and swiped a long, broad stroke over Cas’ slick hole, causing him to buck up at his mate's ministrations.

“Yes, oh yes. More _Alpha_.”

Humming against Cas’s rim, Dean swirled his tongue around it before delving deeper, chasing the ambrosia that was his Omega's slick, all while his hand still lovingly caressing his mate’s velvety flesh.

Dean toyed and teased his mate until he was begging to be mounted by his Alpha. “Please, Dean, knot me, knot your Omega.”

Dean knew that Cas needed this, he needed to give up all control and be taken completely by his mate, his Alpha. He needed to rid his mind of all the horrific events that had happened. Castiel needed Dean and if he were to be completely honest with himself, Dean needed him too.

Slicking up his cock, Dean growled with want and gently rolled Cas over onto his stomach, being mindful of his mate's healing wounds. He ran the head of his cock in circles around Castiel's slick hole before pressing past that tight ring of muscle and into his mate. Both men groaned at the sheer ecstasy of it.

Dean set a fast pace, his knot had already began to fill before he had even entered his mate. The noises Cas made as Dean touched him, the breathy grunts and moans, the way he begged for Dean to take him, the thick heady smell of his arousal and the sweet, sweet taste of his slick was all too much for the Alpha.

Reaching around, Dean took his mate’s heated flesh in hand and stroked him hard and fast, knowing that he was not going to last long and he wanted to make sure Castiel was pleasured too. Cas panted against the pillow as his mate rode him. Their bedroom was filled with the delicious sounds of skin slapping skin, and the aroma of their mated scent.

Dean thrust in once more and stilled as his knot swelled to completion, locking them together. His cock throbbed and pumped his hot release into Cas’ body. The Omega keened at the first wave of his mate’s seed and came on the bed in long, thick stripes. “ _Vy udivitel'ny. Ty vse, chto ya nikogda ne znal, chto ya khotel_.”

The Alpha chuckled softly, “I love when you speak Russian,” he kissed the nape of his mate’s neck, “I’d love it more if I knew what the hell you were saying. It sounded good. Was it good?”

Cas let out a soft laugh, “I said that you're amazing, you are everything I never knew I wanted.”

Dean rolled to his side, pulling Castiel gently with him and making sure his bad shoulder was the one above them. He curled around Cas, sweaty and sated, knotted to his mate and smiled against his back. “Are you going to teach our pup Russian?”

“Yes,” Castiel answered, his breathing still fast. “It's part of our pup’s heritage. I could teach you, too, if you would like.”

Dean kissed just below Castiel’s wound and pressed his forehead into the center of his back. “I would like that. That way I will know if you’re mad and bad mouthing me.”

Cas smirked over his shoulder at his mate. “Trust me, you won't need to know Russian to know when I'm mad at you.”

“You’re amazing, Cas,” Dean softly nipped at Cas’s neck.

“Mmm, _ Vy _ ,” Cas craned his neck to look at Dean, “ _ Vy udivitel'ny _ .”

Dean quirked a brow at his mate, “is that how you say, ‘You’re amazing’?”

“Mmm yeah.”

Dean laughed as he ran his hand up and down Castiel's side, pressing himself even closer to his mate’s back.

“You know…” Castiel said after a moment, catching Dean’s hand and holding it tightly. “The day after you left Dean, Crowley called me into his office. And I went.” Dean’s hand tensed in Cas’ and he waited for his mate to continue. “I was on that table, everything was in place for him to start. But I-I panicked. I couldn't do it, Dean. In that moment, when I was about to have our pup…” Castiel trailed off and sighed. Dean knew his mate couldn't bring himself to say the words and he squeezed Cas’ hand. “It all became so  _ real _ to me for the first time since I looked down at that pregnancy test. And as irrational and impossible as the situation was... I  _ wanted _ our pup.”

Dean kissed his mating mark, causing Cas to shiver. “I’m glad you changed your mind, Cas. Because from the moment I found out you were pregnant? I wanted you to have our pup.”

Dean felt the remaining tension drain from his mate as he completely relaxed against him. Dean peppered kisses along the back of Cas’ neck and shoulders before whispering in his ear, “So where are we going to start over? Where do you want to go to raise our pup? ”

Castiel turned his head and caught his mate's lips, kissing him slow and passionate before pulling back and laying his head back on the pillow. Dean continued planting little wet kisses along his shoulder and neck and Castiel reached for Dean’s hand, lacing it with his before bringing it down to rest on his stomach.

“Anywhere, Dean, as long as we are with you.”


	11. Epilogue - Free to Be You and Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glossary Chapter 10  
>  _Da devochka, ya uvidel svoy dovol'no Sandkasl. I ty byl takoy sil'nyy monstr toptat' yego._ \- Yes baby girl, I saw your pretty sandcastle. And you were such a stong monster stomping it.  
>  _Prinyat' yego legko na vash dyadya, Gabe zaznoboy_. - Take it easy on your Uncle Gabe Sweetheart.  
>  _Privet brat'ya rebenka, vyyti i igrat'_. - Hello baby brothers, come out and play.  
>  _Veselo Devochka_ \- Have fun baby girl  
>  _Vskore devochka, v blizhaysheye vremya_. - Soon baby girl soon.  
>  _Vy videli moyu Sandkasl? Vy videli menya eto shag kak monstr_ \- Did you see my sandcastle? Did you see me step on it like a monster?  
>  _Ya lyublyu tebya_ \- I love you  
>  _YA sobirayus' idti okhotit'sya s rakoviny dyadey Gabe! Byt' pozzhe Daddy, Papa_ \- I’m going to go seashell hunt with Uncle Gabe. Be back later Daddy, Papa.

 

**_”It’s easy to fool the eye but it’s hard to fool the heart.” --Al Pacino_ **

 

 

 

 

**Undisclosed Location || Playa Langosta || Costa Rica**

 

Dean woke up curled around Cas, their bodies molded together, sunshine coming in through the large bay window and warming his bare shoulders.

It was a rare occasion that they were able to sleep in, especially since their daughter, Izzy, was always up with the sun, but the night before, Aunt Jess and Uncle Sam asked Izzy to sleepover to help out with their new baby and their baby girl had been ecstatic. Jess had given birth to a little boy, Carter, almost two months ago and from the moment she crawled up onto the hospital bed to say hello, Izzy had been in love with her younger cousin. For Dean and Cas, Izzy spending the night out of the house provided them with the much needed rest they were craving.

Dean yawned and debated going back to sleep, it couldn’t be much past 8 in the morning. But one glance over at his mate snoring softly at his side, Dean changed his mind. His mate looked so damn good bathed in the sunlight, sun kissed skin a beautiful golden color, and he lifted his arm to run his hand over Cas’ hard chest and down to where his belly had started to swell, hard and taut beneath Dean’s hand. Cas let out a soft groan, shifting beneath his Alpha’s touch, and it made Dean’s cock thicken as he felt Cas’ swollen belly shifting. Dean smiled and moved down, pressing his lips against the undeniable proof that his mate was round with their second _and_ third pup.

It had been a shock to them both, to say the least, when they found out Castiel was carrying twins. Dean still remembers going to their first doctor’s appointment and hearing the loud, strong heart beats of not one, but two pups. Dean had damn near passed out and Cas had almost broken his hand he was squeezing it so tight, when the Doctor made it official.

“Congratulations! You’re having twins!”

Dean kissed his stomach again before moving back up, pulling Castiel in gently and smiling against his shoulder. He nuzzled against his mating mark before pressing a kiss there, too.

“Mmmm,” Castiel groaned as he rolled over onto his back, tossing his arm over his eyes to block out the sunlight. The movement only caused the comforter to slip lower, revealing the full swell of Castiel’s stomach to Dean’s hungry gaze. “It’s too early to get up,” Cas mumbled grumpily, bringing a smile to his Alpha’s face.

Without answering, Dean returned his hand to the mound of his mate’s stomach, his fingers skating lower and lower through the soft patch of hair until his fingers closed around Cas’ half-hard cock. Dean stroked it gently, loving the way it twitched and filled in his hand. He smirked when Cas purred and rocked into his loose, teasing fist.

“Hmm, certain parts of you don’t seem to think it’s too early,” Dean teased, giving a small squeeze.

Castiel huffed and reached to the left of him, eyes still closed as he felt around until he found the small throw pillow he placed under his stomach when he laid on his side. He brought it to his face, effectively blocking his eyes.

Dean chuckled lowly. He wasn't above playing dirty and he knew just how to wake up his mate.

Dean kicked the covers to the foot of the bed and maneuvered down his mate's body-- fingers, lips, and tongue singing its praise until he knelt between Cas’ spread legs. Dean eased them open, baring all of Cas to Dean’s ravenous eyes, then he leaned down, licking a stripe up Cas’ cock before going lower to mouth at his balls.

Dean glanced up at his mate to see his hands gripped onto the pillow he was still using to cover his face. Dean traced his tongue even lower, spreading his mate’s ass cheeks with both hands. Cas was still sticky, still smelled of slick and come from their escapades last night, and Dean bit back a groan as he delved deeper. He licked a broad stroke across Cas’ hole, feeling it quiver under the press of his tongue.

“That's cheating,” Castiel grumbled as he hit his Alpha upside the head with the throw pillow.

Dean winked and tossed the pillow aside to the floor. “After four years, Sweetheart, you should know I don't play fair. I could stop,” he said, fingers squeezing the globes of his mate’s ass, “if you really want me to...”

Cas opened his mouth to retort but a groan spilled from his lips as Dean slipped his tongue into the still pliant ring of muscle. Dean added a finger along with his tongue, coaxing out fresh slick from his husband. The Omega arched up and let out a long dirty moan as a second finger slipped in, moved deeper, and pressed against his prostate.

Castiel's cock throbbed between his legs, precum pooled on his hip from where his cock was pressed between his stomach and leg. Dean fucked him slowly with his fingers and tongue, enjoying their mingled taste. He pulled back, chasing the taste of his mate from his lips with his tongue. “Tell me what you want, Cas. Anything, I will give you anything.”

Dean wanted to hear it, wanted his mate to say the words that drove him wild.

“I want you to fuck me, _Alpha_ ,” Castiel moaned as the pads of Dean's fingers slid across his prostate.

“Say it again,” Dean leaned down and murmured the words into Castiel's thigh as he continued sliding his fingers in and out of his mate’s wet heat.

“I want you to fuck me, Dean.” The words came out in a breathless whisper, turning into a loud groan when Dean took Castiel's cock into his mouth, tonguing at the slit before swallowing it to the root. Dean groaned around his mate’s length, the press of his swollen stomach against the top of his head only serving to drive him wild as he was reminded of what their love could create. Cas’ hips rocked up into the warmth of his mate's mouth surrounding him and he gasped, “Fuck me, Dean.”

Dean twisted his fingers inside of Cas, adding a third and spreading his fingers wide, stretching Castiel for his knot. “You ready babe?” He raised to his knees between Cas’ legs, lifting Castiel’s hips and placing a pillow underneath his back; his mate's comfort always came first.

“I've _been_ ready!” Cas snarked. Dean smiled, loving how sassy his Omega was.

They had learned to get creative with their positions the further along Cas got into his pregnancy, finding the best ways to make it good but also comfortable as he grew larger. Castiel's swollen stomach was now double the size of his first pregnancy, not that Dean would tell his mate that. At nearly eight months along, there was very little that was easy for Cas at this stage, but this position was by far his mate’s favorite. Castiel could just lie back and enjoy as his Dean fucked into him nice and slow.

Cas groaned, “Yes, damnit. Fuck me now!” The last part Castiel growled out and Dean instantly knew it was an order, one he was more than happy to fulfill. He could never deny his mate anything he wanted, especially now.

Dean slicked up his cock and gently pushed into his mate, bottoming out in one fluid movement. Dean rocked his hips once he was flush against his mate's ass, the head of his cock pressing against Castiel's prostate. His husband grunted softly and arched his back, driving Dean deeper.

Castiel writhed on the bed under his mate as loving words spilled from Dean’s lips praising his mate, telling him how beautiful he is all swollen with their pups, while he rocked in and out of him. Dean could feel his orgasm building, the tight, wet heat of his mate better than anything else in the world. He knew it wouldn’t take much longer for either of them.

Dean gyrated his hips, slowing his motions as he rocked in deeper before pulling out to the tip of his cock. Castiel groaned, his hands moving to his sides to grip the sheets as Dean pushed back in. The need to please his mate took over everything else, and Dean couldn’t hold back any longer. He snapped his hips forward, slow and hard, as Castiel gasped for ‘more’ beneath him. Dean plunged in and out, his knot starting to swell and catch on Cas’ rim on each pass.

Castiel groaned as Dean reached between them and wrapped his hand around his mate’s heated flesh. No sooner had he wrapped his long fingers around Cas’ hard cock that the Omega cried out, painting his stomach in thick white stripes. Dean’s eyes rolled back into his head at the clench of his mate’s inner muscles around his knot, causing it to swell to completion and spill deep inside of Castiel.

Dean carefully positioned them on their sides and pulled Cas close, nuzzling his neck and breathing in their mated scent along with the smell of sex and arousal that hung heavy in their room. With the arm trapped beneath their bodies, Dean reached up, fingers twisting in the hair at the nape of his mate’s neck. He moved his other arm so he was able to rest his palm flat against Castiel’s stomach, rubbing small circles and smiling when he felt small kicks and nudges where his pups were.

“It’s still too damn early,” Cas groused around a yawn, hand coming to lay beside Dean’s.

“Would you like to sleep some more?” Dean grinned as he felt a soft kick against his palm and reached for Cas’ hand to press it to the spot.

“Yes. If _your_ pups will let me.” Cas’ body relaxed against him and his eyes fluttered shut. Dean smiled and ran his fingers further up through his mate’s hair, scratching gently at his scalp.

“Sleep,” he whispered, pressing his lips to Cas’ forehead. “I will wake you once my knot goes down and we will have a quick breakfast before we join the others on the beach.”

Castiel hummed something against his chest and Dean smiled as he let his own eyes close, breathing in his mate as he waited for his knot to die down.

When he was able to slip free, Dean carefully eased out of the bed, not wanting to wake Castiel. He quietly made his way into the master bathroom, wetting a washcloth before returning to Cas. He sat down on the bed and ran the warm washcloth over Cas’ stomach and between his legs, cleaning the come and slick from his skin tenderly.

Castiel yawned, reaching up to scrub his hands down his face before opening his bleary eyes. Dean smiled down at him. “Hey sleepyhead, come on. I’ll go make us some breakfast.”

Dean held out his hand, helping Castiel sit up. The Omega groaned as he stood. Dean watched as Cas stretched, popping his back before grimacing and placing both hands on his stomach. Dean smiled as he bent down, placing his hands and face against Cas’ belly.

“Are Daddy’s boys kicking Papa again, hmm?” Dean cooed, placing a few kisses to Cas’ stomach and rubbing soothing circles before standing back up and kissing his mate on the cheek.

“They are _always_ kicking, Dean,” Cas grumbled good-naturedly, “Next month can't come quick enough. I'm ready for this pregnancy to be _over_.” He stretched again to work out his too-sore back muscles. “Alexander and Adrian have been much more active than Izabella ever was,” Castiel groused as Dean took his mate's hand and led him from the master bedroom to the kitchen.

Dean let out a short laugh. “Well, I’d say so Cas! There are two of them in there this time around. Two rowdy _boys_.” Dean helped Castiel sit down at the bar in the kitchen and he smiled at his mate. “But for the record? You bitched almost as much during your last month of pregnancy with Izzy.”

Castiel swatted at Dean’s shoulder as he dodged out of the way, heading over to the refrigerator.

“I did not,” Cas pouted as he rubbed his belly.

“You so did,” Dean chuckled softly, “but you gave me a beautiful daughter so I didn't mind. Just like you are going to give me two beautiful sons.” Dean smiled at his mate as he placed a pack of bacon on the counter. “How do chocolate chip pancakes and bacon sound?”

“Sounds great,” Cas sat up excitedly. “But can I have strawberry syrup and whipped cream on my pancakes?”

Dean chuckled and rolled his eyes at his mate. “Of course you can. I wouldn’t dream of serving you anything else!”

 

After Dean finished cooking, they ate out on the terrace, enjoying the view of the white sandy beach of Playa Langosta. In the distance they could hear the laughter of their daughter letting them know that the others were already down on the beach.

Four years ago, they’d made the decision to move to Costa Rica. They had spent a week at the hunting cabin with Sam and Jess, scouring the internet for possible places, but as soon as they found _The Diamonds_ gated community in Playa Langosta? All four of them were impressed by the beautiful beachfront properties and immediately started looking at houses for sale.

Dean and Castiel fell in love with the very last house on the property; a Spanish revival architecture, four bedroom home, with a separate guest house and everything decorated in tropical decor with beautiful surroundings and ocean views. And as luck would have it the house next to it was also for sale, and Sam and Jess thought it was perfect.

The location was more than ideal-- on the beach, within an exclusive community of luxury homes, each with a private section of beach mere steps from their back terrace. The entire complex was only minutes from dining, shopping, and anything else they could need, just next door in Tamarindo.

They made offers on the houses that very day. With the help of Sam’s computer guy, Dr. Badass, Castiel closed out all of the offshore accounts the Bratva owned--which equaled around ten million dollars in all-- and transferred the money to one joint account with his and Dean’s name. He helped Sam and Dean close out all their current accounts, all of which had similar amounts, before Dr. Badass made it look like no accounts had ever existed.

Their personal accounts were emptied into joint accounts for each couple and the computer genius also set Dean, Sam, and Cas up with new social security cards and new identities. Despite wanting to keep their names, the danger of doing so outweighed their wishes; the potential of being discovered and sought out, putting themselves and their families at risk, made them bury that wish and pick out new names.

Dean and Sam settled on using their grandmother Deanna’s maiden name, Moretti, so they could still have a family name. Privately they’d be Dean and Sam, but publicly, they’d be John and Tony. Jessica settled on her middle name and became Lee Moretti.

Castiel was firm that he no longer wanted to be a Krushnic or in anyway related to the Family. He told Dean that he wanted to be a Winchester, a Moretti. With a few clicks from the Dr. Badass’ keyboard, he got his wish and would publicly be known as Dmitri Moretti.

By the end of the week their offers were accepted and they were boarding a plane to Costa Rica to finalize the sales.

They’d just barely finished settling into their new routine of retirement living on the tropical island that was now their home when a deposit of one million dollars was made to both Sam’s and Dean’s accounts. When Dean contacted Dr. Badass to see what the hell was going on, he had the following message to give Dean:

**‘Dean -- for you, Castiel, your little one, and for Sam and Jess to start their family. Take care Brotha, Benny.’**

Dean only wished he could let Benny know how much his friendship and loyalty was appreciated.

Breakfast finished, Dean collected their plates and loaded them in the dishwasher before he met Cas back out on the terrace. He found his mate’s hand, interlacing their fingers and kissing him softly as he helped pull him to his feet. “We better save everyone from Izzy,” Dean teased, smiling against his Omega’s lips.

Castiel laughed and kissed him back before moving towards their gate, kicking off his shoes before he exited their property and headed towards the beach, Dean following suit. Castiel smiled at Dean as he heard a high pitched squeal of laughter. “I guess you're right, she’s practically torturing them. I did enjoy having you to myself last night though.”

Dean squeezed Castiel’s hand, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of it. “Me too, babe.”

Dean's eyes scanned their private beach area. Jess was sitting on a large beach towel under an umbrella feeding Carter. He heard Izzy’s loud giggles and Dean looked towards the shore line to see their beautiful three-year-old in her favorite Hello Kitty swimsuit. Her light brown hair was pulled into pigtails, her bright blue eyes shone like the ocean just like her papa’s, and Dean could swear he could see the spatter of freckles that she got from him adorning her nose and cheeks from where they stood. She was smiling and clapping as she watched Sam and Gabriel building a sandcastle.

During their sixth month of living there, and Cas’ seventh month of pregnancy with Izzy, Gabriel was finally able to join them. Having more time to plan, and with Ash to help him disappear, he chose Dylan Kali, _dlya Kali_ , as his name. When he told Castiel, the Omega knew why his brother chose what he had. For Kali, a rough translation, but the push Gabriel needed to continue moving forward with his life despite losing everything that had once been important to him.

He had completed his therapy and against all odds-- plus being the most stubborn motherfucker Dean had ever known-- he was able to walk again. He had a slight limp on his right side, and whenever it was due to storm they all knew it, but Gabriel only needed to use his cane if he was walking long distances. He’d moved into the guest house on Dean and Castiel's property when he arrived in Costa Rica and Castiel had been overjoyed having his brother back with him. Though Dean was loath to admit it, so did he.

Surprisingly, his brother-in-law had really grown on him and after Izzy was born, she immediately had her uncle wrapped around her little finger. He ended up being a Godsend to the new parents, and solidified himself as someone Dean could rely on, when Izzy turned six months and developed colic, sleeping very little. Gabriel would join in on the rotation of ‘baby duty’ and take Izzy to the guest house with him often, giving Castiel and Dean the opportunity to get some much needed sleep.

During their second year in Playa Langosta, Gabriel had fallen for a local beautiful Omega woman named Ambriel who just happened to live next door to Sam and Jess. Now, she and Gabriel had been dating for the past two years. He recently told Dean and Castiel of their plans to mate and for him to move in with her, nervous energy at the confession rolling off the Alpha. That night when Dean and Castiel were alone in their room, Castiel told Dean that Kali would have approved of Ambriel and that he was glad his brother found happiness again.

As Dean and Castiel walked over to Jess, she smiled at them and gave them a salacious smirk. “Hey boys! Did you enjoy last night all to yourselves?”

“A gentleman never kisses and tells, Jessica,” Dean replied as he crouched down to play with his nephew’s little feet.

“And since when are _you_ a gentleman, Dean Winchester?” Castiel and Jessica said at the time. Dean glared at them both and ignored the comment, focusing on his nephew instead.

“Your mommy and Uncle Cas think they’re comedians, don’t they?” Carter kicked his feet in Dean’s hand, a small laugh bubbling from him as Dean tickled him and he squirmed in his mother’s arms.

“How was Izzy last night?” Castiel asked as Dean stood back up and wrapped his arm around his mate.

Jess smiled. “She was a perfect little angel. It was really nice having another girl in the house, it evened the odds.”

Dean laughed. “Well, feel free to take her any time you want. Especially when the twins come. If they are anything like Izzy was? I see no sleep for us in the foreseeable future.”

Jess placed Carter on her shoulder to burp him. “Well you know you’ve always got me and Sam, Gabriel and Ambriel if you guys ever need a break.”

Castiel gave her a warm smile. “Thank you, Jessica, I'm sure we will take you guys up on it. Same if you and Sam need a break.”

“That's what family is for.”

Dean’s eyes drifted back over to his daughter who was now roaring and stomping the sand castle that her uncles had built, both Gabriel and Sam laughing and roaring with her in encouragement.

Dean thought back to how hard carrying her had been on Cas. He’d been ill throughout the entire pregnancy and their new doctor, helpfully supplied with the records meticulously kept by Crowley, told them it was due to the fact Castiel had been on the strongest suppressants for all those years. Dean remembered the doctor telling them that after she was born, Castiel would not be able to have any more pups and that it was already a miracle that he had been able to get pregnant at all.

It hurt Dean knowing they wouldn't be able to have more. Hell, they had already talked about it, had even planned on more pups during Cas’ pregnancy. Even though Cas acted stoic... Dean knew he was hurting too.

Having Izzy lessened the pain-- they were so goddamn glad to have her -- their little miracle pup.

Seven months later, when Dean woke up in the middle of the night and wrapped around Cas, burying his nose in the crook of Cas’ neck and breathing in deep to catch the faint scent of vanilla, he’d bolted up straight, shocked. He instantly woke Cas up shouting and pointing, barely unable to get out the words other than ‘you’, ‘Cas!’, ‘vanilla’. The next day they went to the doctor and sure enough, Cas was pregnant again.

Dean’s not ashamed to admit he cried when they got the good news.

Dean was brought out of his musings when little arms wrapped around his legs. “Daddy, Papa, _Vy videli moyu Sandkasl? Vy videli menya eto shag kak monstr?_ ”

Dean laughed at how excited she was over smashing her castle and he got down on one knee in front of his daughter. _“Da devochka, ya uvidel svoy dovol'no Sandkasl. I ty byl takoy sil'nyy monstr toptat' yego,_ ” he praised and got a toothy grin as a reward.

Dean stood back up and Izzy wrapped her arms around Cas belly kissing it. “ _Privet brat'ya rebenka, vyyti i igrat'_ ”

Castiel smiled down at her and ran his hand across her cheek. “ _Vskore devochka, v blizhaysheye vremya,_ ” and Dean smiled at his mate. Castiel, he knew, felt exactly the same. He was ready for the boys to be able to ‘come out and play’, too.

Izzy gave a small pout before she turned and faced Dean. “Up, Daddy.”

Dean picked her up and she gave Dean a kiss on the cheek before leaning over and giving Cas a kiss, too. Sam smiled at them and reached down to take Carter from his mate’s arms.

“Do you want to go for a walk on the shore, get your feet wet?”

Jess stood up and kicked off her sandals and wrapped her arm around Sam’s waist. “Lead the way.”

Izzy squirmed out of Dean’s grip, sliding down the length of his body before she ran over to Gabriel and grabbed his hand. She looked over her shoulder at her parents and called, “ _YA sobirayus' idti okhotit'sya s rakoviny dyadey Gabe. Byt' pozzhe_ Daddy, Papa!”

Castiel laughed. “ _Prinyat' yego legko na vash dyadya, Gabe zaznoboy!_ ” He hoped his daughter would in fact take it easy on her uncle.

Dean grinned as his baby girl dragged Gabe down the beach and called out, “You find lots of pretty shells, _Veselo Devochka_!”

Castiel smiled at Dean. “You know... you have gotten really good speaking and understanding Russian.”

Dean helped Cas sit down on the beach towel under the large umbrella before he got down beside him, leaning over to huff a small laugh into his shoulder. “Well, I would hope so after four years. And of course I had an awesome teacher.”

He rested his chin on Cas shoulder. He watched as Sam and Jess walked down the beach with Carter sleeping in his brother’s arms. He watched his daughter hand Gabriel a shell the size of her hand, gesturing at it like it was a great find.

Castiel sighed and leaned back against Dean. He felt Dean wrap his arms around him, his hands rubbing circles on Castiel’s belly. He kissed the mating mark he had put on Cas over four years ago before he whispered in his ear, “ _Ya lyublyu tebya_.”

Castiel turned his head and caught his mate's lips, kissing him gently. He smiled against Dean’s lips as he whispered back, “I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much everyone!!! Remember, feedback fuels the fire, weather comments or kudos or shares!!!
> 
> Share with us any ideas you have for time stamps! We are all ears!!


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